Elisir
by The Great Red Dragon
Summary: In a treacherous world, a former slave of trafficking and a mysterious city dweller are brought together for an uncertain future. Contains m/m relationships. Discontinued.
1. Elisir

(_A/N: welcome to my new fic, entitled_ 'Elisir'…_which, in Italian, translates into 'Your Love'...I think_. _Please be aware that the entirety of this romance-themed story is of a homosexual nature, and will include much non-explicit male/male romance.  
Please read on, if you please…_)

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Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 1

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The first light of mornings spread over the infinite number of skyscrapers of a city-conquered planet. Airways and 1000-foot traffic-lines began moving at quicker pace, and the little window-squares of the many buildings began to illuminate with light of their own.  
In one of the higher floors of an apartment-scraper, lights that flicked on formed a square of tiny, separated illuminations around an unlit window that remained dark. Traversing inside, we find a small, three-room accommodation consisting of only a kitchen, and bathroom, and a bedroom. It was messy, to say the least: clothes lay tossed all over the floor of the bathroom, covering a blue towel-rug. In the kitchen, the dishes were halfway-done, although soapy water still lay undisturbed in the basin of the metal sink.

In the bedroom, it was as dark as ever – only shadows illuminated the outline of a two-man bed, a commode in the corner, and an in-set television in the wall facing the bed. Above the bed, on the wall, there hung an impressive katana-like sword: a slightly curved, sheet-thin blade, and a long, ornate handle.  
Beneath this majestic sword there lay the bed…now, with wrinkled gray sheets, moved-about pillows, and two occupants lying in it. Light that slowly slithers in from the cracked venti-shutter dimly illuminates the scene for our eyes to see.  
The two individuals snoozing soundly in the bed were both small and seemingly identical in stature. Large, dented oval-shaped ears, almond-shaped, luminous eyes, and short, fine fur that covered their bodies seemed their signatures.

The one of them that slept on the right side of the bed seemed to be the smaller of the two, with fur so light in color it was almost peach, with even lighter fur lining his large eyes. He lay on his stomach, with his right arm underneath the pillow that he rested his head on. His left hand lay stretched out across the mattress, where it met hand-in-hand with the other creature's, whose fur was a deep shade of orange. There were noticeable muscles rippling underneath his dark fur, all over his body, and the decressions of even darker fur around his eyes gave him an eerie sort of ominous appearance. The same darker shade of fur was found in two patches on both of his pectorals and on the in-lining of both of his legs, like a rottweiler or a Doberman. There a gold earring inserted near the top of his right ear, and spiny, unruly fur in a row across his scalp and between his ears gave the impression of a self-styled Mohawk. Unlike his bedmate, he was lying on his back, with his right hand resting behind his head. His left hand lay subconsciously clasped in the peach-colored creature's and his head lay positioned in the same direction.

Surely the both of them were two of the 626 illegal genetic Experiments created by Jumba Jookiba.

The blanket had been kicked away, and now lay in a heap on the floor. This revealed both of the Experiments wearing shorts…for what reason was unsure, but it made the scene look very summer-esque: the peach-colored Experiment wore green above-the-knee trunks that looked an awful lot like swimming-shorts. The crimson Experiment was wearing blue Speedos.  
As the world around them began moving busily, resuming the ongoing trog-race, these two remained peacefully asleep and blissfully unaware of any unpleasantries going on in the outside world. Even in their unconsciousness, they looked peaceful: their breathing was relaxed, and even their faces held the hint of a smile. They had not moved around much during their sleep, so their hands still remained resolutely clasped together, their claws still holding the other's gently, palm-to-palm.

Slowly, sneakily, the light that had broken in from the outside through the kitchen window began to make it's way further throughout the apartment and into the bedroom, Through the door that stood only a crack open, the sunlight pierced through in sharp lengths of rays and eventually fell upon the peach-colored Experiment's back. He groaned slightly as the warmth awakened him, and he withdrew his left hand from the grip of the other Experiment to pull the pillow over his head. He shifted, dis-arranging the bedspread beneath him even more. He lay in a new position while the other Experiment rolled over and onto his side, still fast asleep.  
For several minutes, the peach-colored Experiment held this position, until his body deemed him awake enough to emit a yawn. Slowly, rently, he pulled his head out from underneath the pillow, supported himself up with both arms, and with his large ears lying back in sleepiness, he yawned widely, displaying rather small, evenly-spaced fangs that lined his gums. Eyes shut lazily in morning light, he smacked his dry mouth and lips quietly, looking slowly around the room in morning-ritual. He yawned again, and settled himself back down on the mattress, this time on his back. He blinked and his eyelids fluttered as he tried adjusting to the morning's sunlight, which was slowly turning the gray ceiling of the bedroom a golden shade of yellow.

The Experiment laid his hands across his stomach as he lay there, staring at the ceiling and looking very content and happy, as he thought content and happy thoughts. His head turned in the direction of the Experiment sleeping next to him, and slowly his mouth formed a small smile. Rolling over, he scooted over the bed until he lay right next to the Experiment whose back faced him. Supporting himself with one arm, he held up his head and looked fondly down at the orange-furred Experiment, who still snoozed on his side. Gently, he placed a hand on his shoulder and slowly slid it down his muscular arm. He leaned over, and tenderly placed a kiss on his neck, elicting a subconscious purr from him.  
The peach-colored Experiment smiled once more and petted his friend's arm again.

"I love you", he whispered.

He then rolled over, in mind to get out of bed and get started on breakfast, when he was met by a strong, restrictive arm across his light-colored chest.

"Going somewhere?"

The Experiment smiled once more; he didn't resist and allowed the other Experiment to pull him playfully against his chest. He reached carefully behind himself and stroked the Experiment's head, and answered;

"Nowhere…now that you're awake."

He then let out a small, contented gasp and arched his neck as his muscular companion began kissing it tenderly from behind while hugging him against his chest warmly. The peach Experiment purred and mewed at the pleasant sensation, and reached behind himself and rubbed his friend's thigh softly, delightedly feeling the well-formed muscles underneath the orange fur. The larger Experiment continued to kiss and nuzzle his neck, and slowly protracted a second set of equally-powerful arms. He wrapped these around his bedmate and continued his gentle treatment, while the receiving Experiment writhed and whimpered beneath the affectionate loving.

Their cuddling went on for some time – the orange Experiment kept teasing his mate with occasional little tickles underneath his arms and occasional nips to the lobe of his ear. The smaller Experiment accepted these with small giggles and playful jerks of his head. He placed his two hands over two of the orange Experiment's, and leaned his head back onto his lover's shoulder, eyes shut in pleasure of his treatment.  
After a while, silence slowly crept upon the purring, mewing, and giggling couple, as the orange Experiment slowly subsided in his cuddling and kissing. Now they lay silent, save for their breathing, but the larger Experiment still held his smaller comrade close to him, his head now resting close-eyed against his mate's back. The grateful recipient, the peach-colored Experiment, lay in his friend's arms, feeling contentedly exhausted, smiling a bit. He rubbed the dark Experiment's arm across his chest and asked;

"May I turn around?"

His mate took a while to answer. When he did, he raised his head, kissed the back of the smaller Experiment's head, and replied in a warm, mellow voice;

"Of course…why not?"

He loosened his embrace on the Experiment enough to allow him to begin rolling over, but trapped him in a hug once he was on his back. He lay on top of his 'pinned' love and smiled down at him seductively, and the small Experiment smiled back.

"Gotcha'."

The small Experiment did not resist, even with his arms pinned to his side by the one who lay on top of him. He only smiled up, feeling very secure and happy to know that his lover was so close by. The dark Experiment both sensed and saw his happiness, and it made him smile more, too – he always felt the best when his lover was at ease along with him.

"By the way…I love you, too."

With those words, he leaned down to his pinned 'victim', and gave him a tiny kiss on his lips.  
The peach-coloured Experiment shivered slightly as an ecstatic chill went down his back as the dark Experiment kissed him…so lightly, yet so lovingly.  
It felt so good…the smaller Experiment squirmed his arms free and wrapped them around the other Experiment, nuzzling his strong, furry chest with his cheek.

"I'm glad that I'm with you, Gomy…", he said quietly, smiling as he smelled his lover's scent: calm and relaxing.

Gomora, the muscular Experiment, smiled as well, as affection was presented on him, and he renewed his hug on his love and rested his cheek on top of his head.

"So am I, Niki…and I'm glad to be with you, too."

Nikita said nothing, only continued to hug his mate and nuzzle his chest.  
The two lovers held eachother close in their loving embrace, enjoying every moment of their togetherness, and every feeling bit of their cherished affection, inspired by their deep, undying love.  
They hugged, cuddled, and kissed in their tiny apartment while the world around them moved furiously, yet left them at ease.

How did they achieve such bliss? How did they find eachother? What hardship had they both endured?  
Well, that's what this story is about…


	2. An Arhk, Heaven, And A World Of Numbness

(_A/N: in this chapter, please note that there will be some coarse and sex-related language. Above all, please forgive my description including the words 'whore house'; it is a very rude term, above all, and I apologize. __Please read on if you wish_…)

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Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 2

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In the red-light district of that same city-covered planet, there stood some time ago a pouf called '_Species'_. It appeared dingy from the outside, but was well-lit once you stepped through the glass doors. A 'receptionist's' desk stood not far from the entrance. The main walk led up to two ovalled staircases that led off in directions opposite of eachother. Both of these led to red-carpeted hallways filed with numbered doors which led to default rooms, most of them only adorned with a bed, a nightstand with a lamp on it, and a holo-window that depicted a top-story view. When these were not in used by customers and their 'clients', they were occupied by the clients themselves…many of them had only enough money to buy their own food, and they were therefore allowed to recline in one of these empty rooms if they wanted…of course, if the room was called to use, they would be kicked out for however long the 'dealings' took.

This pouf, despite looking moderately clean and well-kept, was not very hospitable at all towards its 'recruits'. Allowing those who had no money to use the rooms was simply the only step of compassion the pouf showed, and it's mean was much more underhanded – if they had no place to go, perhaps they'd stay there…only, of course, if they kept on hooking.

The system was unfair, too: no matter how much money was earned by those who took the customers, they only received the minimum percent of it, while the receptionist (and official owner of the place) kept the rest. Perhaps that was how the large building was kept in the positive condition it was – because the big boss made a small fortune off of his work, while still living good.  
It was a sadistic system…but those who continued to stay and 'work' there were usually desperate.

Given, most of the prostitutes that stayed and operated at the pouf were female, but if you sat in the couch that faced the receptionist's desk and watched the twin staircases long enough, you'd be sure to see a male of some species walk across the balcony to the other door.  
Like in all major societies, homosexuality was frowned upon, and it wasn't even exactly popular…but it was a known fact in that part of the gigantic city that there were male prostitutes at the pouf, and once in a while, a curious customer would pay for some time with one of the guys…chosen from the small variety that the house possessed.

One of these few characters that habituated the pouf now slept in a back room on the right 'wing', near the bathrooms and the soda machines. A small, big-eared creature with peach-colored fur lay asleep on a brown-cushioned metal couch, his knees drawn up to his chest. His eyes were shut tight, and his arms were wrapped around his shoulders, as if it were extremely chilly in the room he was in. He wore clothes: a short-sleeved vest and some light leather slacks that were too large for him; he had rolled up the bottom hems several times to make sure he wouldn't fall over his own feet.  
Why he wore clothes was unclear – in his previous home, he had only gone nude…if that word were to be considered true. Perhaps it was 'promotional purposes' – the big boss maybe saw it as a primitive thing, to have his employees walking around without clothes, even if their bodies were furred and their genitalia anatomically hidden. Maybe it was simply the creature's like for fashion, or a need to fit in to the fashion epoch – perhaps he felt a need to fit in with the rest of the crowd, considering that he was already very different from everybody else.

The peach-colored creature, Experiment 621, had grown up in the secret lab built by Jumba Jookiba for all of his Experiments…and the life that he lived now, which was nearly a direct transition from the life in the lab, couldn't be anymore different. Gone were days when the food was free, the recreation and entertainment was right around the corner, and there was always a nice bed in a quiet dormitory to sleep in.  
How had he fallen so low? - to live a life of sleeping in a bed of a whore house, to be called upon whenever it should be to exercise a customer's sexual fantasy, to make the small bit of money that he kept in his pocket to buy food – how could he have gone from premature paradise to what he was forced to live off of now?

It all had something to do with descent: after the raid on Jumba's lab, and the Experiments finding themselves out in the open universe without their creator, Experiment 621 was left on his own, without any friends to help him out. One thing led to another, experiences with unpleasant things became more frequent, until he eventually wound up where he was now.  
What exactly happened? You'll find out later…

Right now, Experiment 621 had woken up and was sitting up on the couch. The doors to the bathrooms were to his left, and he looked and considered until deciding that he didn't need to; he was thirsty. 621 stood up and walked towards the soda machines, reaching into the pocket of his slacks and pulling out a coin. He stepped up to the machine, went to put the money into the slot, and the coin slipped out of his hands and rolled underneath the machine.

"Godammit…", 621 cursed in reactive sleepiness and in muted exasperation.

He got down on his hands and knees, and planted the side of his face to the cold, tiled ground, looking to see if the coin had rolled too far out of his reach…

"Ni-ki-taaa!"

621 looked up at the figure who had just walked in through the door from the hallway and smiled: Mel had entered the place.  
Mel was an Arhk; a purple-skinned raptor-like creature who stood surprisingly only a foot taller than 621 (around 4'6). He was, however, more humanoid than any dinosaur, but with a beak-like muzzle and small, glittering eyes. As a matter of fact, everything about Mel seemed to glitter - Mel, who put more emphasis on his own appearance than seemingly anything else: he wore boots so polished that they reflected light like a glare underneath a pair of baggy pants, not unlike 621's, although his (Mel's) were laced with a glittering tinsel. He wore an open-chest '80s-esque rocker-top, which was pink and zebra-striped. His hair was so sharp and individually parted, one might've suggested that he had spade-shaped diamonds coming out of the back of his boney head. Clawed fingers on each hand carried no less than three golden rings (each), and his nails were painted black with lacquer.

621 was happy to see him – he was his only friend in the business, let alone the entire universe.

Mel came soft-shoeing his way, in a manner that suggested he were rolling in money and was simply showing it off eccentrically. 621 (Nikita), however, knew that Mel served as hard of a time as anybody else did in the pouf, and his flamboyancy in clothes was simply a carefully-calculated saving-up of payments, many for which he forfeited daily food for. Still, it didn't seem to bother him – Mel loved his clothes, and wouldn't feel as happy as he always did without them.  
He now strode over to Nikita (who stood up in greeting), and flashed his eyes through tinted sunglasses.

"What's someone like you looking like a dog on the floor for?", Mel asked, stopping in front of Nikita.  
"I see – the new overtime is licking the floors clean, no?"

"Overtime would be nice", Niki replied with a smile.  
"I just lost my last cent of change under the machine…"

"You're broke?", Mel exclaimed in over-exaggerated surprise.  
"Well, you know you don't have to go floor-sweeping, boy – you know I share with you."

"Oh, no; you don't need to-", Niki tried to refuse as Mel searched his pockets, but he hadn't had a chance to finish his sentence before the Arhk had pushed a bill of currency into his hand.

"A whole credit? I don't need this much-"

"Then get me a bag of chips too, huh?"

"We'll still have change-"

"I'll take you to a movie. Hurry up and get the stuff, would you?"

Nikita had no chance to argue, so he only smiled weakly as he turned to the automats and slid in the bill while Mel took a seat on the couch where he (Niki) had been sleeping before. Even as he punched in the digits that identified the soda and the bag of chips, he felt guilty for spending Mel's money…that credit was a day-and-a-half's work, as far as he knew. Still, he picked the food and drink out of the retrieval-slot and carried it back over to the couch. He handed Mel his chips and his change ("_Oh, Niki – you touch me like you know me_") and then sat back as he popped open his soda, and Mel tore open the top of his bag.

"Barbecued?", he said in surprise, looking into the bag.  
"You must've wanted these yourself – want some?"

He offered the first taste to Niki, who obliged, ate a palmful, and then offered Mel his can of soda.

"I really shouldn't be eating anything except bread and water", he said, accepting the drink.  
"All this grease, sugar, and fat – it'll take ten years off of my life…"

He did, however, take a sip from the can as Nikita giggled at his constant joking. Eventually, they set the bag between them for even-shares and passed the soda back-and-forth, draining it slowly.  
The bathrooms didn't seem to be in use much, today, as Nikita and Mel sat on the couch, eating their chips and drinking their soda, and never seeing another soul around. The entire building seemed quiet – Mel suggested that if there was no business at all, the big boss might cancel his prostitution-service and open up another business…perhaps all of the hookers would group together to form a cleaning-crew; Nikita had better start saving up, because the big boss surely wouldn't pay for a mop and bucket.

One of the many reasons that Nikita loved Mel the Arhk was because he always managed to be cheerful and make him laugh when there was seemingly nothing to laugh about. Mel was a prostitute too, and had worked at the pouf longer than Niki. He took his assignments when they were given to him, and earned as little as Nikita did…but once he stepped out of the room he had been engaged in with a 'client', he put on an eccentric, high-nosed attitude, and the customer would usually end up leaving embarrassed while Mel loudly commented on sexual dysfluency, and that he himself would be ashamed to pull his pants down if he were as 'godforsakenly endowed' as the customer.  
Nikita always laughed at him; it was one of the few times he could laugh.

Mel's spirit alone kept him going, because it was the only bright thing that Niki had in his life. In terms of friendship, there was no other soul in the world that stood by him like Mel…then again, nobody much stood by Mel either, so in private, Nikita felt that they were made for eachother…as friends.  
Also, in private, Niki believed that Mel might be a hermaphrodite, but he never mentioned it.  
Now, Mel had relaxed and stretched himself vertically on the couch as much as he could, and his shades slid down his muzzle a few centimeters. Mel didn't bother to reset them; his eyes were closed lightly and he had rested his hands on his stomach. Nikita looked at him curiously.

"Nikita…", Mel started slowly.  
"Have you found God yet?"

Niki wasn't quite sure of what to make of this question.

"Sorry?"

"Have you found God yet?", Mel repeatedly, his voice not rising and his closed eyes unwavering.

"…I don't believe in God", Nikita replied cautiously, not wanting to say anything he wasn't supposed to.  
"…Sorry, but I don't think-"

"But God believes in you", Mel interrupted, his voice not changing tune at all.  
"And God sees all. He sees you, me, and He sees our troubles and burdens…and some day, it's going to all get better. We won't live like this no more, because God will present us with something far better than this."

Niki was in mixed emotions now. He had never known Mel to be the least bit zealous or religious, and this sudden showing of faith was a bit surprising. Honestly, he respected religion and the people who believed in it, but in his own life, he saw no reason to ever have believed in God. He, of course, was not conceived by the 'wonder' of the lord, through reproduction of a religious couple who would have thought of him as God's gift. He had only Jumba and Jumba's genius to thank for being alive, and he felt that was enough to live on: Jumba had created him, housed him, fed him, and kept him healthy and well for the time that he lived in the lab. After he had been forced to leave the lab, Jumba's pampering and leisures were gone, and Nikita had to live off what he had or could make. He considered this system fair, real, and without question the only one there was – God surely hadn't made any impact on his life, nor would he probably ever.  
But he didn't interrupt Mel, for purposes that included respect, interest, and a feeling of unfaltering faith in him: Mel had never led him wrong before, so there was no reason he should now.

Mel was continuing, at a bit faster level;  
"Y'know…I don't care what people say, because we are good with God. Oh yeah – we're straighter with the lord than anybody else out there! Y'know why?"

"No, Mel", Niki replied.  
"Why?"

"Because we are those who suffer", Mel said earnestly; by now he had sat up and was facing Niki, with a rapturous look on his face.  
"We suffer! There's no question about out! And forget all that bullshit that the people going to church will tell you, that we're damned for what we do, and that whores go to Hell, and all that shit – is it like we had a choice? Did we go to the employment office and request to be hookers? No, we didn't – God put us in this position! Look at you – you never had a choice, did you, Niki?"

Not wanting to answer the other way, Nikita shook his head.

"No, you didn't! See, that's what I mean! God had influenced our lives, so that we suffer more than those rich bastards in the good houses! God put us where we are for a reason, and we will suffer…but I'm telling you, Niki; it's all gonna be alright! Our just rewards will be splendous! We are going to profit more than anybody else, because even in times of Hell and hot water, we stayed faithful to God! Yes, even you – choosing to keep going, for whatever reason, it makes no difference: God has seen, He still sees, and He will shower us with the meaning of sweet paradise when the time comes, and by His name, we will be the only ones who actually fucking deserve it!"

He stopped what had eventually turned into a full-out rave, and sat back down onto the couch, straightening his shirt properly.  
Nikita looked upon Mel in a type of awe, not knowing if this outburst had been triggered by actual religious belief and him wanting to say so, or by a sip of the liquor; Niki knew that Mel drank occasionally.  
He didn't know what to say in return, and he kept quiet for a while. Mel must've noticed his unsureness of the matter, and dropped an arm around his shoulders with a smile.

"Relax, man!", he said to Nikita, squeezing his shoulder.  
"Don't worry about a thing – one day, we'll be going to Heaven!"

Nikita had to smile in return, as he noticed Mel's softer, sweeter side returning.

"C'mon, _En-ki-ta_", the Arhk said, pronouncing his name oddly.  
"Close your eyes and tell me what you see."

"…What?"

"Close your eyes and tell me what Heaven looks like."

For a moment, Nikita smiled, thinking this might be a joke Mel was playing…then the Arhk placed a hand over his eyes and asked in a firm (yet playful) voice;  
"_Tell me what you see_."

Niki couldn't see anything…his eyes were closed; how was he supposed to see anything?  
Still, he decided to play along, and considering that Mel was his closest friend, began to describe his idea of paradise.

"Well…it's not a city."

"Good…what more?"

"It's a…it's all green…an ongoing, rolling plain with green grass…sided in forests…the trees are both evergreen and deciduous, because it's never winter here."

"_Niiice_…what else? What's beyond that?"

"…A waterfall. I see waterfall, full of crystal-clear water, warm to bathe in but cool to drink…there's a small pool beneath the waterfall, and this tiny little gully supports all of the rivers that run throughout Heaven…keeping everything green and fertile."

"…Any animals?"

"Yes…lots of them…but they're not predators. They live as a part of Heaven, always peaceful and trusting…they're like horses…but only much more beautiful…"

"And where is God?"

"God is…everything."

"…_And you say you don't believe in God?_"

Niki opened his eyes and looked at Mel. He was smiling.

"_You-!_", Niki said in mock, laughing outrage, and grabbed the empty chip bag and began hitting Mel with it.

Mel laughed and covered his head with arms, shielding himself from Niki's playful 'blows'.

"Man, for someone who doesn't believe, you sure have a pretty clear idea of where you're going, huh?", he laughed as Niki assaulted him with the empty bag.

They eventually broke up the silly scuffle, a few moments later. Mel chuckled bemusedly as he fancied his shirt again, and Niki leaned back on the couch, feeling considerably better than he had yet felt that day.

"You really believe all that stuff about God?", he asked Mel.

"Of course I do", Mel answered serenely.  
"Do you believe in your description of Heaven?"

"If there really is such a place, then I believe that that's what it is like", Niki replied.

Mel smiled warmly and put his arm around the Experiment again.

"Well, I'm glad to know how wonderful it's gonna be", he told Niki, still holding his smile.  
"And I know that you're going there…the only place closest to being fit for someone as wonderful as you."

Nikita blushed underneath his peach-colored fur and lowered his fur; _good God, he loved Mel the Arhk.  
_He was about to tell him so, when they were suddenly interrupted by an overhead intercom that cackled to life surprisingly.

"_Kita, come to front – we've got a customer_."

Two things instantaneously revealed that this command was issued by the receptionist/big boss. For one thing, the deep, growling drawl that identified his voice was unmistakable, even over the intercom. Secondly, it was only he who called Nikita 'Kita', instead of his full name or 'Niki'.  
Nikita groaned and grimaced as he heard himself being called, and he slumped down heavily on the couch.

"_Nooo_…", he moaned agonizingly and squeezed his eyes shut.  
"_I don't want tooo…not tonight_…"

He felt Mel put a hand on his shoulder and he gave him a little shake.

"C'mon…you do a quickie, and you'll be out in time for us to go to that movie", he encouraged.

Nikita opened a weary eye at Mel and groaned once more.

"But I don't want to…"

"I know you don't, baby", Mel replied, and there was honest sympathy in his voice.  
"But…listen up: you get what you can out of what the guy pays, I'll go out onto the street for a quickie myself, and if I can get one, we put the money together and go get some dinner. How's that sound? And then we sneak into the theater and watch a movie, alright?"

Nikita nodded, but it wasn't necessarily in agreement to Mel's proposition – he only wanted to get it over with so that he could continue with his nap that he had woken up from earlier.

"Alright then…", he said heavily, and raised himself from his seat.  
"After all, in an honest customer, the suck is only as good as what he pays…"

"Hold up!", Mel exclaimed, standing up as well and grabbing Niki by the arm; Niki was moving towards the door.  
"You can't go out there like that – we need to fancy you up a bit!"

"Come on!", Niki complained.  
"I don't care what I look like!"

"The big boss would if you made his business look scruffy", Mel pointed out, tugging Nikita towards the bathrooms.  
"Let me tidy you up a bit!"

Still complaining, Nikita found himself being dragged into the white-tiled restrooms, and reluctantly stepped up to a mirror above one of the sink.

"I don't have any cosmetics."

"I do; a whole pocketful", Mel retorted, and dropped a whole mess of eye liner, lip gloss, eye shadow, and other beauty-makers into the sink before them.  
"You do what you want, and I'll just go and relieve myself for a moment…"

While Mel stepped inside one of the stalls, Nikita carefully applied powder, slippery ash, and rouge to his face. He had never really enjoyed or found it pleasant to wear makeup, but he thought positively about the effect it could have on his appearance. He wished Mel was applying it, though; Mel could do things with a stick of eye liner that could leave a person looking like a member of another species.  
In the end, however, he was satisfied with the results, and stood admiring himself in the mirror.

"_You look good_", he told himself, admiring his sleeked-over eyes.  
"_You look good_…"

"You look good!", Mel exclaimed in encouragement, emerging from the stall while still pulling up his pants.

They left the bathroom together, and passed through the 'couch room' before entering the red-carpeted hallway and beginning their long march down it. They passed a female Arhk on their route, and Mel gripped Nikita's arm as they did.

"Got a wanted felon, here", he announced in a gruff voice of mock authority.  
"Sentenced for giving a customer high blood pressure."

The Arhk did not reply, but walked by them with a disapproving expression on her face. They heard a door open and close behind them, and Mel said in a loud whisper;  
"Snotty bitch."

They came to the door that led into the main hall and Mel licked his hand to smooth the fur on the back of Niki's head. Niki laughed and jerked his head away as he pushed the door open, and both he and Mel stepped onto the balcony above the receptionarry area.  
The big boss looked up from his desk, thirty feet away from them. He was a large, obese alien with slime-green skin, three eyes inserted inside of his pudding-like head, and wore a shirt and pants that didn't come close to covering his large gut. He wasn't looking very pleased at the fact that Niki had taken so long.  
Niki flashed Mel a thumb-up behind his back and headed down the stairs. He knew Mel was still standing at the top, because he hadn't heard the door opening again to mark his departure. Niki stepped up to the desk (of which he was only half as high), and looked up at the ugly and angry big boss.

"You're late", the large alien breathed.

"Sorry", Nikita replied blandly.

"Whatever", the big boss snapped.  
"Anyway, listen up: we got a customer requesting someone smaller than himself. He emphasized fluffiness."

He pointed and Nikita turned around and looked at his customer: he was barely taller than Mel, and wore nothing but black leather, and the hair on his head was orange. He had his back turned to them at the moment, but Niki knew at once what he was: he was mammalian, and an elongated face would suggest some type of humanoid/equine hybrid - a Perentil.  
Nikita turned back to his boss in disgust; the guy was surely a pervert, who'd be wanting something special.

"What's he offering?", Nikita asked dully.

"Forty-five credits, I haggled", the big boss replied, in a manner that he was very clever to have gotten a price so high (even Niki was surprised).  
"Although I had to guarantee that you'd be as slutty as-"

"Yes, yes, whatever. What's my share?"

"Ten percent."

"Twenty."

"Fifteen."

"It's eighteen or I won't do it."

"It's sixteen, and be fucking happy about it."

"…Sixteen sounds fine."

"Wonderful. Now, he wants to take you in his ride-"

"_What!_"

Nikita had exclaimed so loudly that the customer had turned around in surprise; sure enough, his face displayed an elongated muzzle and watery eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere in anybody else's cruiser!". Nikita hissed in a low whisper.  
"Are you trying to kill me!"

"Maybe I should", the big boss growled angrily.  
"But we've already settled and he's paid. I'm not going to give up forty-five good credits."

"Then you go and fuck him!"

Nikita was almost ecstatic. In his lifetime, he had heard too many stories about highway prostitutes being taken, raped, and killed. He wasn't about to set himself in harm's way, not when it meant holding onto his own life.

But his boss's next words left him short of replies;  
"_You go, or you can do without the money or a roof over your head_."

In the rush of the moment, Nikita was very close to blurting out that he didn't care…but he stopped himself before completing the statement.  
He did care. He didn't want to be out on the street if he could sleep in a bed…he had been out on the street before, and to go back was the last thing he wanted.  
Also…he needed the money. He needed to buy food and whatever else he needed, and he needed to pay back Mel for the soda: a snack as grand as that could not be ignored without being paid back, at least not with a good conscience. With as little as they made, Nikita and Mel depended upon eachother for money, and by splitting it and sharing, they had found a way to stay up and alive for all the time they had spent together in the pouf. Nikita believed that this was not the time to walk out on his friend and partner…not when sixteen percent of forty-five credits was to be made.

"…Alright", he finally said after a short while.  
"I'll do it."

"Knew you would", the big boss said, bending down and pulling out something from inside of the desk.  
"Now, because he's paying big, we're giving him some expense-free accessories he may like. Now, here's a tube of Vaseline, a pack of condoms…"

Nikita wasn't listening. He had looked back up at Mel, who seemed to be almost beside himself. Noiselessly, he was frantically motioning for Nikita to come back up the stairs to him. At this time, the big boss called over the Perentil to pick up his 'accessories', so as the customer moved towards the desk, Nikita stepped away and hurried back up the stairs. He had barely reached the top when Mel, with an urgent expression on his face, grabbed him violently by the arm and pulled him back inside the red-carpeted hallway, almost slamming the door behind them.

"_Mel! _What the-!", Nikita exclaimed as he came to an unsteady halt from the Arhk's handlings.

Mel didn't seem to be listening; he was opening the door he had just slammed only a crack, as if seeing if they had been followed by somebody.  
He then turned around, and when Niki saw his face, it displayed all of fear, worry, and flat-out terror.

"Don't go", he told Niki.  
"Nikita, I'm begging you – don't do this!"

Normally, Nikita's initial reaction would be to ask why, and why Mel was nearly hysterical about the situation…instead, he said;  
"But I have to. He's going to pay big, and I'm getting fifteen percent."

"Come with me!", Mel urged, seizing Nikita by the shoulders.  
"We can make twice the price he's paying out on the streets if we work together."

"He's paying forty-five credits – how many people would we have to suck in order to get-"

"I don't give a goddamn shit how many! I'll do it myself, if you don't want to! But you're not going out there, into his cruiser!"

Now, Nikita was confused…and worried. Not so much about himself, but about his friend. Gently, he raised his hands, and worked Mel's hands off of him.

"…Why?"

"Because_-!_", Mel hissed, sounding frustrated.  
"Because_…God, Niki – _don't you know who that is out there?"

"I don't know him personally…", Niki answered slowly.  
"But I know that he's a Perentil."

"Exactly!", Mel exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger.  
"Obviously you don't know this, but just about very one of those sons of bitches you see on this planet work in the underground – the mob, you understand?"

"…Oh", Niki replied dumbly; he had never heard of this fact.

He considered that Mel had lived on the planet his entire life, so he trusted him on this…although he still wasn't sure of what to make of the idea.

"But…I still don't understand", he told the deranged-looking Mel.  
"I mean…he's already paid and all, so…I mean, I know it's a bit dangerous to go and do it in someone's car, away from here, but…considering he's paid, why would he want to hurt me?...if that's what you're worried about."

Mel shook his head furiously; his crystal-sharp hair was undone by now, and was looking very messy.

"I saw his eyes when he looked at you", Mel persisted.  
"I'm telling you, I don't even want to imagine what he plans to do…and that's just during sex! Suppose his fantasy includes cutting you up like a steak in the end!"

"Mel, don't say that…you're scaring me."

"You should be scared!Niki, for God's sakes, don't go!"

"I have to go, Mel."

"No, you don't!"

"I have to pay you back for the soda you bought me."

"_It's on me!_ I'll buy you another one! I'll buy you the whole machine!"

"…I need the money, Mel."

"_Nikita, you dumbshit-!_"

Mel stopped there, in the midst of wanting to say something more. But he seemed to sink in his stature, even shorter than he already was, and his eyes filled with apologetic emotion.

"I'm sorry…", he whispered to Niki.  
"I shouldn't have called you that…but please, please, please don't go, Niki. I don't want you to go…"

By now, Nikita was torn. Simply by the magnitude of Mel's words, his shouting, and his apology, he knew that it would be the right thing to stay behind…but he remembered the consequences if he did: the big boss would throw him out, and he had nowhere else to go…and with a home at stake, he would be willing to risk danger, no matter how severe.  
He told himself that this was very stupid, but he had already resolved himself to it.

"…I'm sorry, Mel…", he told his friend quietly.  
"…But I'm going to go."

Mel looked at him through pleading, yet beaten eyes. Niki knew that he was close to tears, and that was something he would not be able to endure…to see Mel cry was the last thing he wanted.  
Not wanting to face Mel's crying, if it were to come, he turned away and stepped towards the door that led onto the balcony. He reached out his hand, put it on the door's handle-

"Wait."

Niki stopped. He turned around, and Mel was looking at him earnestly. His tears seemed to be gone.

"…If you're really going…", the Arhk began slowly.  
"And if you really want to be this fucking stupid, I'd…I'd feel much better if you had this with you."

And with those words, he reached into one of the deep pockets of his pants. He pulled something back out, and then pressed it into Nikita's hand – _it was a gun_.  
Nikita actually gasped, and almost dropped the weapon. He stared at it, and then stared back up at Mel. His face was serious as Niki looked at it.

"Keep it", Mel almost commanded before Niki could start stammering in refusal.  
"I'd feel much better if you were at least protected."

But Niki could barely keep quiet.

"M-Mel!", he exclaimed, but his voice turned to a hiss.  
"I can't…I can't take a gun! I couldn't – I –where the Hell did you even get this thing!"

"Bought it", Mel answered plainly.  
"When you save your money right, you can buy a lot more than just clothes, you know."

"But I can't take a gun!", Niki still protested, holding the weapon in his cupped palms as if it were a large, dangerous insect.  
"I couldn't even shoot anybody!"

"It's a 1,200-shot laser pistol, battery-operated", Mel explained, appearing that he hadn't heard what Niki had said.  
"You fire twelve-hundred shots until the battery goes dead; I have more clips somewhere. The safety-catch is on; it's on the side of the trigger. Press it, and you're ready to shoot. It's precise, can break through basic body armor in three or four shots, but goes right through anything less. If you need to kill anybody, you aim for the chest and the head. Line up the target on the barrel-"

"_Mel, I'm not taking this!_"

As Nikita said this, Mel's expression darkened in a way that the Experiment had never seen before – Mel was angry at him.

"If I cannot keep you safe with my words alone", he breathed lethally.  
"And if you're stupid enough to run right into harm's way, the least that I can do for you, as my best friend, is make sure that you have some means to defend yourself…and in this case, you have absolutely no say."

Something about Mel's voice frightened him. It was deep, dark, and full of contained rage…as if this weren't even Mel talking anymore.  
For a moment, Niki was reminded of a nature program he had once watched, and a mother of two cubs had held the exact expression on her face when faced with a predator that might do her offspring harm.  
…Niki wondered for a moment if she gave this look to her cubs if they had ever walked '_into harm's way_' whilst knowing it, and therefore being quite stupid.  
He dropped the gun into his own pocket hesitantly, where it was sure not to be seen by anybody. When he looked up, Mel was still looking like the enraged beast. Unsure what to do, Nikita turned back towards the door…but before he could reach out for it, he heard Mel say quietly;

"Hey…"

Niki turned around, and found the angry Mel replaced by a softer one, looking more concerned than anything else.  
He looked as if he wanted to ask for a hug…but the request never came.

"…Good luck…", he said quietly.  
"Stay safe, okay?"

Nikita nodded, and showed him a small smile before leaving through the door – a smile that had told the Arhk;  
"_Don't worry…I don't hate you_".

Nikita climbed back down the stairs, and passed the big boss at his desk. Aside from being irritated because of his delay, he said to Nikita as he passed;

"We've only agreed on the main deal – if he wants more, he can pay more, but don't give him anything else than what you're supposed to."

"I never intended to", Nikita replied darkly, feeling the gun weigh down in the pocket of his pants.

Niki stepped outside onto the street; the pouf was on very ground of the city, situated on a very dirty street. In front of the entrance there stood a grey, automobile-like land/air cruiser, against which leaned the waiting Perentil. He caught sight of Niki, and wordlessly opened the passenger's door. Niki stepped towards the car, and noticed how eerily dark the night was, especially with the street lying beneath the forest of gigantic sky scrapers. The cruiser's headlights were the only bright light, except for the light streaming out from the inside of the pouf. Off in the distance, Nikita could see neon lights marking the beginning of the second turf of the red-light district.

He climbed into the waiting customer's car, and closed the door as the Perentil turned the ignition and started his vehicle. Niki put his hand into his pocket and felt the gun with his fingers, now feeling quite glad that he had it with him.


	3. Nein

(_A/N: before reading on, be warned: this chapter depicts implied rape, severe and sex-related language, and violence_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 3

* * *

The dead of night all around them, the leather-garbed Perentil pull his cruiser up through the endless lines of skyscrapers, through the air-traffic lines of all levels and still higher. Nikita looked out the passenger's window and saw them flying still higher and higher. The Perentil still had not spoken a word to him, but was only gazing fixedly at his course that raised them past the countless numbers of lighted windows.

"So…", Nikita stated quietly, in an offhanded voice.  
"Where are we – why – why're we going so far up?"

"I don't wanna get busted…", the Perentil replied, not much louder than Niki had spoken.

Nikita rolled his eyes and rested his elbow on the rest of his door.

"_Well, who does?_", he said under his breath.

The Perentil drove them all the way to the top of what Nikita thought must be the tallest skyscraper. The Perentil turned the steering of his craft and landed them smoothly on the building's flat, desolate roof. Surrounding the parked cruiser stood air-vents, antennas, satellites, and receivers: perhaps this was a hotel?  
The Perentil leaned back in his seat - a shadow had fallen over his long face, so Niki couldn't even see what expression he wore. Almost a minute passed in silence, with Nikita sitting there without knowing what to do except simply stare forward dumbly.  
Finally, he took a deep and audible breath and asked slowly;

"So…you wanna get to it?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…", the Perentil replied, with a tone that suggested Nikita might've been being pushy.  
"Just…you don't mind if I wet my whistle first, do you?"

He pulled a gin-flask out of his pocket and popped it open with a distinctive '_ping'_.

"Knock yourself out", Niki answered as his customer tilted the flask to his mouth and leaned his head back, taking a large swig.

The Perentil drank a few more gulps of his drink before letting out a soft, contented gasp; obviously it had hit the spot. He turned his elongated head in Niki's direction, finally revealing his features: nothing out of the ordinary – although he did look a bit drunk from his last gin-intake.  
If Nikita would've been able to, he would've groaned loudly: he knew from experience that worst customer in the world was a drunken one; he'd be lucky to get out of there.

The Perentil reached over and stroked a careless a finger over Niki's head. Niki's immediate reaction would be to jerk his head out of reach, but that'd be deterring to the customer. Instead, he slightly leaned towards the window on his side, earning him perhaps a few centimeters distance between himself and the Perentil's finger.

The customer was smiling in a dazed, sick sort of way.

"Hookers these days…", he remarked nonchalantly, still holding his drink.  
"I mean…I really dunno if I love 'em more than I should…but, shit, that's what they're there for, aren't they?"

"…I suppose that's everybody's opinion", Niki replied with a small, fake smile, even though he felt only disgust and a little bit of uneasiness in his place.

The Perentil chuckled to himself in a way that suggested Nikita was funny in a way that only he could see. As he laughed, Nikita's hand slowly edged down his hip and he felt the gun in his pocket for reassurance.  
There came another few moments of silence in which Niki was unsure of what to do or say…until the Perentil 'filled in the blank' again.

"So…forty-five credits?", he asked, still staring at Niki with the same expression from before.  
"That's some big money…"

"Yeah…", Niki agreed slowly, but then added;  
"But…hey, I can make it worth it for you."

"Good…", the Perentil repeated, nodding.  
"Yeah…better than my fucking girlfriend…worth less than what you are, but that's not really saying much, is it? I mean…Hell, how does a guy get in a position where he sucks another guy's dick for a living? You tell me. I thought only the girls could be hookers – what's your story?"

Nikita didn't like this; if the customer kept on talking strangely like this, he would be sure to either leave the car or shoot him…what was with him, anyway?  
He supposed the Perentil was quite drunk, and he wasn't in a clear state of mind…Niki only hoped this wouldn't make him aggressive or dangerous.

"Look, can we just get on with it?", Niki asked in a strained voice.  
"I mean...no rush, but I'd really...can we just get it done with?"

The Perentil sat oddly quiet at his request, simply staring at Niki with watery eyes and the same drunk expression. Finally, he breathed a sigh that was almost a relief to Niki;  
"Okay, okay; I know you've got better things to do…"

The customer irked lazily, and set down his flask.

"Fine, fine…let's do it."

Nikita now breathed a sigh of his own in relief: with luck, he could be out of here relatively quickly.  
Supporting himself on the dashboard, he moved over to the Perentil while pulling off his vest, but was met with a hand that gave him a small push backwards.

"No, no, no, wait a minute…"

The Perentil unzipped the fly of his pants and pulled down his shorts.

"Suck it for a while first, would you?"

Nikita paused – under ordinary circumstances and on an open night, he'd do what the customer asked, but he remembered the big boss specifically telling him to only present the basic treatment…this did not include oral sex.  
Considering that the Perentil was paying extra, it'd seem that oral sex should be a given bonus, but demanding extra pay for it was the boss's way of wheedling more money out of the client. What was more, Nikita would've done it anyway, with or without extra pay, but that night he was extremely keen on getting out of the situation and back to the pouf; he was very tired.

"Come on, man; that's not part of the deal", he tried to point out.

"Oh, come on; I'll give you an extra ten credits!", the Perentil urged.

Niki shook his head and repeated;  
"No, that's not part of the deal-"

But the Perentil cut him off before he could even finish his sentence. Nikita did not know what wrong he had committed or how severe it was…but when the Perentil spoke again, he shouted in a loud, uncontrolled roar;  
"_Ten more fucking credits, you fucking slut!_"

Before Nikita even knew what was going on, before he could even reach for the gun in his pocket, the Perentil reached behind his seat and pulled out an empty bottle. With an impact that shattered the bottle into pieces, he hit Nikita hard on the back of the head with a resounding crash. The peach-colored Experiment fell forward and hit his head hard on the dashboard and didn't move afterwards; he was out cold.

* * *

Nikita finally awoke, disoriented and feeling very sick. He tried to raise his head, but his noggin felt like an anvil. He couldn't see; it was dark, and whatever shadows played in front of him slid in and out of focus hazily. A terrible gurgling in his stomach threatened to regurgitate his past lunch, but he hoped desperately that he wouldn't need to vomit; in his condition, he couldn't move and would probably drown himself if he threw up.

Slowly, piece by piece, Niki began to patch bits of the hazed reality together to decipher his position, and where he was.  
…He was lying uncomfortably on his stomach, with his face pressed into something that felt like soft fabric. Was he still in the cruiser? If so, he was lying across the two front seats of the vehicle; the shift gear was pressing uncomfortably into his stomach.His face felt sticky, and he tried to bring a hand to his face…soon, however, he realized that he could only barely move his arms. They were on his back, with his wrists pressed together tightly. Feebly, his fingers felt around themselves and discovered a cord-like rope wrapped numerous times around his wrists, below a large, unorthodox knot; his hands were tied.

Niki raised his head as much as his limited strength would allow, and he opened his mouth in a low groan. Any shift in his position seemed to hurt him in some way, so he tried to lie as still as he could, only moving his head about him in a disoriented up-and-down fashion, like a bobble-headed toy.  
He heard sounds approaching…footsteps. Somebody had stepped up behind him.

"Hey…you awake?"

It was the Perentil's voice, and Nikita groaned lowly in both exasperation and in the inability to talk; his voice seemed to have left him.

"_Are you awake?_", the Perentil repeated, louder and harsher than the first time.

Once again, Nikita could only groan.  
There was a moment of silence, where Niki wondered and feared what the Perentil was doing…and then, Nikita jerked up and squeezed his eyes shut as tears invaded them, ushering from his mouth a loud, painful whimper; the Perentil had shoved his hand violently in a very sensitive area of his body – Nikita was now doing all he could to hold back an agonized sob that threatened to escape him.

"_Are you awake now!_", Perentil shouted, his hand still torturing Nikita in that hurtful place.  
"_Are you awake, bitch!_"

Nikita groaned extensively, sensing relief only when the Perentil removed his hand.  
His captor stood up and gripped the top of the car. He swung his foot, and kicked Nikita hard.

"_You awake! Huh! You awake! Scream for me, you little fuck!_"

And Nikita did scream, because he could not hold it in any longer; the Perentil kicked him again and again, harder each time.  
His shriek was only interrupted by a seemingly triumphant roar from the Perentil, who ducked into the car and dropped himself on top of Nikita, his knee digging purposely into the Experiment's spine.

"You wanna die?", he hissed into Niki's ear, grabbing him by his scalp and forcing his head up.  
"Do you want me to cut you up from back to front? Do you want that more than to be fucked?"

Nikita could only reply in another loud, twisting groan as he thrashed desperately under the Perentil's weight, fighting furiously with the rope around his wrists.

"If you wanna stay alive", the Perentil breathed into his ear, so close that Nikita could actually smell his breath.  
"Then you'd better do _exactly_ what I fucking tell you to. Ya gonna do that? _Huh?_ You gonna be a good little bitch for me?"

Nikita breathed fast through clenched teeth, feeling the Perentil's sharp-clawed fingers digging into the skin on his head, drawing blood where they punctured. His mind raced;  
"_Think, think, think! How can I get out of this? Oh God, help me now!_".

The Perentil sat up, straddling Niki's lower back. He reached behind the seats once again, foraged for something momentarily, then held up another bottle (unlike the one he had used to assault Niki with, this one was full).

"But first…I'm gonna clean you up real good", he breathed evilly, uncorking the bottle easily.  
"I'm not about to go fucking no dirty bitches…"

And then, he tipped the bottle over Nikita's head and spilled the contents of it all over the bound Experiment. Niki immediately smelled the heavy, ominous scent of hard liquor…and when it poured over an open wound on the back of his blood-encrusted head, it burned like he had never felt before…and he had to scream.  
As if he were being sliced open from within, he screamed, thrashed, and struggled in his bound position. His screaming seemed only to invigorate the Perentil, who smiled sickly to himself.

"Yeah, you like that?", he taunted aggressively.  
"Well, you're gonna _looove_ what I've got for you next – we've got some fucking to do tonight!"

"_YOU MOTHERFUCKER!_", Nikita roared, bucking and thrashing against the Perentil's weight on his back.  
"_YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER!_"

He felt the Perentil get up from him and slide out of the cruiser. He still kicked, screamed, and struggled continuously against the bindings on his wrists, unable to even sit up with the shift-stick boring into his stomach. But he was desperate – if the Perentil came back into the car, there was no way he would leave alive. It was just like all of the horrible stories he had heard, where a prostitute would be beaten, raped, and then killed before being dumped or hidden somewhere in the dark. Fueled on these thoughts, Niki furiously tried to pull his hands apart from the cords binding him. His fingers began clawing and wrestling with the binding, while outside, he could hear the Perentil open the trunk of the cruiser – what was he getting? Surely it would mean nothing good for Niki, who now squirmed and struggled so hard that he felt the shift beneath him skip a movement to the next gear.

He tried, he tried, and then – _yes!_ It was easy – the large knot he had felt before was too loose to be of any extended use, and it had already loosened itself even more from Niki's thrashing. Finally, after what seemed a horrifying eternity (but was really only a few seconds), he found a loose end in the large, bulbous knot and took it between two of his fingers. He tugged at it as best as he could, and blessedly, that seemed to disintegrate the entire knot. He yanked his hands free and immediately dove into his right pocket. He searched, and his hand closed around the grip of the gun Mel had given him: there was hope.

He heard the Perentil's footsteps as he approached the cruiser's open door again. Just as he stuck his pale, elongated face back into the vehicle's interior, Nikita whirled around onto his back, the gun pointing right at the horse-headed alien, its safety-catch released.  
Once again, the Perentil's face was shrouded in shadows, and Nikita could not see into eyes or decipher his expression. All he knew was that the Perentil had seen the gun, and had reached an open, clawed hand towards Niki. In return, the Experiment fired.

It was loud for a laser gun. A harsh, sudden, pounding hiss exempted with every shot, sounding much like a hot slab of metal being tossed into water. The recoil was massive as well, and it took nearly all of Niki's strength to hold the weapon as he fired it…three times.

The Perentil stumbled backwards and fell onto his back, the blade-like laser blasts having left three straight holes in his body. Screaming like a creature insane, Nikita jumped out of the cruiser and aimed the gun down at the Perentil's fallen body; he was still alive and moaning. Nikita roared and shot as many blasts as his trigger finger could tally into his abuser's body, spreading black, smoking holes of penetration across his chest, shoulders, neck, and head at a frantic rate. Even after the Perentil was dead beyond doubt after a shot in the center of his forehead Nikita still kept on shooting, emptying a considerable amount of the weapon's battery into the Perentil's body relentlessly, screaming all the way. Finally, he threw the gun down and began kicking the lifeless carcass viciously, shouting;

"_YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! YOU GODDAMN BASTARD! I HATE YOU!_"

* * *

A while later, Niki sat on the edge of the seat of the driver's side inside the dead Perentil's cruiser. In his shaking, unsteady hand he held a burning cigarette; he had found them in the ship's glove compartment (and in the trunk of the ship, he had found a considerable length of even more rope, a handsaw, and several dark-themed sex toys; the Perentil himself had been carrying a curved knife when he had approached Nikita for the second time).

Even though it was very dark, the Perentil's body was still visible in the moonlight, and Niki stared at it intently.

It had been out of fear, rage, hate, and desperation…mainly because he knew that he himself would be killed if he didn't…but the fact still hung clear and dreading in his mind: he had killed someone.  
Somehow, even telling himself that it was out of self-defense and a last-second resort didn't seem very satisfying reasons for him taking another's life…but if he hadn't, he knew he himself would've been killed…and now, he was literally weighing the pros and cons of both of their deaths.

But even throughout his unsureness and his terrified state of mind, one question still resided predominantly inside his head;  
"_What am I going to do?_"


	4. Paradise By Nightlight

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 4

* * *

Nikita slammed open the door to the pouf and stomped inside; he almost broke the glass of the frame doing so. The receptionist's desk was empty, but he paid no attention to it to begin with. With an expression on his face that was darkened only by the shadows caused by his own dried blood, he climbed the stairs hurriedly and tore open the door that led to the right hallway.

_SMACK!_

Nikita fell back, after taking barely two steps into the hallway. With a slight grunt, he staggered backwards and fell flat onto his backside. He didn't really care who he had collided with; all he wanted was to get back on his feet and keep moving.

But then, his train of thought was interrupted suddenly by a familiar voice;  
"_Wha-?_ Niki?"

Nikita looked up and only then did he realize whom he had walked into: it was Mel. Only now did he recognize all the bright colors and the shard-like hair – the Arhk had stepped back upon collision, and was now holding his head as he looked down at the fallen Experiment.

"Mel?", Nikita asked dazedly.

"Niki?", the Arhk replied, taking his hand from his forehead as he looked down and caught the red tinge on Nikita's fur.  
"What did – what happened to you?"

"No – nothing happened", mumbled Nikita, unsteadily getting back to his feet.

He tried to push past Mel, but the Arhk gripped his shoulders and held him back.

"Hey – would you wait?", he said, still holding on as Niki tried to push him away.  
"What did – oh God, is that blood?"

"No!", Nikita replied uncomfortably.  
"I just want to go…"

"Niki, what happened?", Mel persisted, relentless with his grip on Nikita.

"Nothing-!", Niki said, his voice steadily getting higher as he struggled to get away.

"Bullshit. Something happened to you."

"_Mel, let me go!_"

Nikita raised a fist above his head. He knew he wasn't strong at all, but the psychological onbuild in his head was pushing to a hysterical level, and right then he felt a need to hit Mel as hard as he could. He swung his clenched hand forward…but something in his arm slowed him. It slowed his sailing fist in the first split second, and by the time it reached Mel's chest, all it did was press against his body stubbornly.  
Nikita's eyes were pressed shut tightly; he was fighting back tears. Immediately, his legs seemed to turn to jelly and he slid silently to the floor, Mel following him in his descent.  
Niki sobbed indistinctively and hung his head.

"_I'm sorry_…"

Around him, he felt Mel's grip turn from restrainsive to a soft embrace, and the Arhk hugged him silently against his body. Nikita breathed in sharply and his breath broke, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Mel's chest, and his face found its way to Mel's shoulder, where he began crying softly.  
Mel held Nikita's body against his own protectively, and he began to gently pet the Experiment's back with an open palm.

"It's okay, baby; it's gonna be alright…"

Nikita didn't know how this was to be possible, but all he wanted at the moment was more of Mel's warmth. He snuggled against his friend's body, wishing that he could simply sink into Mel's body and be protected by his warmth – oh, how the cold stung him…  
The two of them held eachother in their sitting-position on the floor for several minutes – in Mel's calculation, it was for however long it took for Niki to calm down. They were undisturbed, and nobody came into the hallway during this time. It was only when Nikita's sobs had subsided for several moments that Mel decided that it was time to move.

"Come on, baby", he urged his friend as he helped him to his feet carefully.  
"Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

With his arm still around Nikita, he led him through the hallway and through the soda-room, until they reached the bathroom. Mel took Nikita inside and locked the door behind him for privacy. He turned back to Nikita and sighed.

"Go sit down on the heater, okay? Let me get some towels…"

Nikita did as he was told and walked on over to the radiator on the far side of the stalls. He sat down on the cold metal rail and sniffed a bit before Mel returned with a handful of damp paper towels and several small moist towlettes.

"Okay…", Mel started slowly, kneeling down to head-level with Nikita.  
"Uh…could bend your head forward a bit, sweetie? I wanna clean up the back of you head first…"

Niki did as he was told and inclined his head. He felt Mel lean over him, and realized him studying the wound on the back of his head, inflicted by Perentil's initial assault with the empty bottle. Nikita himself had not yet seen the damage that had been done, but when he had ran a hand over the back of his head a while ago, it had felt very much like a gash spread down a piece of fruit by a knife.  
Now, he felt Mel dab at the sensitive skin surrounding his injury tenderly. He dabbed against the skin again, and Niki felt some of the dried blood and crust being wiped away.

Mel continued to wipe and dab, cleaning the fur and the wound. He worked with such delicacy and care that Nikita barely even flinched throughout the procedure. He listened to Mel's steady breathing while still sniffling and wiping his nose occasionally…but all the time, he wondered and worried about the past events, and over and over again he envisioned himself tied down in the car, the Perentil falling back as he shot him continuously, and staring at his dead, smoking body as he smoked a cigarette.

"I'm done back here…let me do your forehead now, okay?"

Mel moved back into a position in which he directly faced Niki. He placed a gentle finger under the Experiment's chin and raised Niki's face up a bit; Nikita would only move so much – if he held his head too high, he started to get a headache.  
Mel began the process of cleaning Niki again. He exchanged moist towelettes and began wiping at Niki's peach-colored, orange-stained fur. His strokes were slightly more rigorous this time – probably because Niki's forehead wasn't carrying a large injury. Still, it was all very gentle, and Mel's touch was as faint and light as ever; Nikita would've been surprised at his skill, had he not felt so preoccupied about other matters.  
He rolled his eyes up to glimpse Mel still dabbing and wiping at his forehead. He sniffed and let loose a tiny sob that threatened to bring even more tears.

"…Mel?", he asked quietly, feeling his voice break even at such a low volume.

His friend stopped what he was doing. He looked down at Niki and lowered himself back to head-level.

"Yes?", he replied quietly.

Nikita opened his mouth to speak…but he choked on the first syllable, and hid his face in his hands as he began sobbing loudly again.  
Mel dropped both handfuls of towels onto the floor and wrapped both arms around the crying Nikita. With a gentle urge, he pulled him off of the radiator and settled him into his lap, on the floor. Nikita buried his face in the Arhk's bony chest and clung to him as if desperate. He wanted once more only to sink and dissolve into the warmth that Mel's body generated – into a warmth where it wouldn't hurt anymore, and where fear would be non-existent.

He cried, sobbed, and shivered as Mel began stroking his head softly, barely hearing his whispers of;  
"Shhh…it's gonna be okay…"

"I…I…I _KILLED_ someone!", Nikita choked out, pulling away from Mel's arms.  
"I shot that guy with your gun! I shot him because he was going to kill me! I shot him!...and I killed him.""

Nikita looked down, away from Mel's eyes, and wept softly, not even bothering to cover his face as renewed tears began to drench his eyes.  
Mel looked at his friend and bit his lip, unsure what to do - to see Niki crying and in pain was one of the few things he was unsure of being able to take.

"Niki…", he said quietly, placing his hands lightly on the Experiment's shoulders.  
"Where is the gun?"

Nikita sniffed and reached behind his back and into a butt-pocket of his pants. He pulled out the pistol limply and dropped it into Mel's hand, who checked it quickly before setting it aside (it was more than halfway empty).

"Sweetie…", he began again softly, giving Nikita's shoulders a light squeeze.  
"I know it might hurt to…but please – you have to tell me what happened."

Nikita turned his head away. He didn't want to recall the events that had taken place only a short time ago. Why did Mel need to know? – wasn't it obvious? Why did he have to retell a story that was painful for him when it already was crystal clear to begin with?

"Nikita…please."

…Perhaps because he was afraid that Mel might leave if he didn't cooperate.  
It was simply being afraid of being alone…and Nikita wanted somebody to hold him.  
He gave in.

"He…he…he drove me up to the top of a building somewhere…", Niki began in a soft, whimpering voice.  
"And I was just getting ready to do my thing, and he…I didn't want to do what he asked…and then…"

Nikita didn't feel like completely recalling the whole story fact-by-fact, and he decided to skim the last bit; he hoped Mel wouldn't mind.

"And he hit me…he tried to…r-rape me…and I shot him."

Nikita didn't see it (he was still looking away), but Mel nodded in response.

"And what did you do with the body?"

"…I left it…"

"And the guy's ship?"

"I parked it in an alley…"

"How far away from here?"

"At least a kilometer; a few blocks…I couldn't stand it anymore; the car smelled like him…"

Mel nodded again. His hands slid from Nikita's shoulders down his arms until they reached the Experiment's thin, bony wrists.

"Nikita…baby…", Mel said earnestly, taking Niki's hands into his own and staring seriously at his friend.  
"You did nothing wrong. You understand me? Nothing. He was going to hurt you, and you acted in your own defense. There's no crime in that, and you have no need to feel guilt for any of it. That guy who did this to you – he's going to Hell for this. But you haven't done anything wrong, sweetie. Nothing."

Nikita's head turned slowly back towards Mel, and he raised his eyes to the level of the Arhk's.

"…Please don't talk about Hell", he said quietly.  
"…I think I'm going to be sick…"

Mel leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Nikita's small, shivering body sympathetically, accompanying his action with a gentle;  
"Oh, Niki…"

As before, Nikita was more than happy to engage in the warmth and closeness of his friend's embrace…but he wasn't crying anymore. Indeed, he was still sobbing and hiccupping a bit…but it seemed as if talking about what had happened had taken some of the still-lingering burden off of him. Now, he predominantly just felt sick.

"Here…sit back up, okay?", Mel urged, breaking the hug and fumbling around for something in his belt.

He eventually pulled forth a roll of some thick, white tape. He picked up an unused moist towelette and folded an unused paper towel together. Nikita understood what he implied before he even spoke.

"Let me just tape you up back there, okay?", Mel suggested.  
"I know it's a crappy excuse for a real bandage, but I'll make it work, okay?"

Niki nodded and leaned his head forward. The skillfulness of Mel's hands returned, and Nikita soon felt his bandage being applied.

"…Bet I look like a lobotomy patient with this thing on", he commented, with a hint of a smile showing on his face.

"Naw; I'm making you look good", Mel assured him good-naturedly.  
"You'll start a new fashion…we'll call it 'the survivor'."

Nikita let loose a small laugh, and it wasn't long before Mel had finished cutting the last strand of gauze.

"There ya go", he concluded.  
"You look like a martial-arts master; it's sexy."

Nikita raised his head and (with Mel's help) stood up. He hobbled over to a sink and gazed into the mirror above it.  
Mel had definitely exaggerated…perhaps not about the bandage that stretched around his head to cover the wound on the back of his scalp, but he certainly looked a right horror: his make-up had been smeared over his face and some of the dried blood still resided on his features.  
Grabbing a towel and wetting it, he wiped the abnormal colors from his eyes and forehead vigorously. At last he looked up at his reflection again, and found himself completely clean, yet the fur on his face was damp and scruffy-looking.  
Mel observed him from behind with a smile on his face.

"You look like a puppy that's been put through the wash", he commented playfully.

"Or a trog that's about to be skinned", Nikita replied.  
"My God…you think that's gonna leave a scar?"

Mel cringed in a pained sort of way.

"Hate to say so…", he told Nikita grimly.  
"But…you're probably gonna be prematurely bald in that area; it's a real mash back there…"

Nikita sighed heavily.

"I won't be worth two cents…", he said dully…before quickly remembering something and exclaiming;  
"Hey!...do you think I can still go down and pick up my pay?"

"Fuck the money", Mel insisted, putting an arm around Niki and beginning to lead him out of the bathroom.  
"I'll get it off that fat bastard tomorrow for you."

"But I wanted to get something to eat-", Niki pointed out, before Mel interrupted him.

"All cleared: I already ordered us something. Your favorite, as a matter of fact."

"But…I'm gonna have to pay you-"

"Bullshit; you don't need to pay me."

"But I have-"

"You have to eat and I won't take 'no' for an answer."

"…I hate it when you do this kind of thing."

"Oh, I love you too, honey-buns."

Mel unlocked the door to the bathrooms and lead Niki out into the soda-room, which they passed through quickly. They entered the hallway and Nikita only walked to follow Mel; he had no idea where they were going.

"You got a room?", he asked.

"Well, I hope so", Mel replied with a shrug.  
"I ordered our food to 32a; I hope nobody's in there…"

"32-A?", Niki repeated.  
"That's in the left hallway, right?"

"Correct", Mel answered, still walking.  
"…So why not get a room in this hallway?"

"Oh, I just realized that there's a TV in 32-A…I thought you might enjoy some relaxation."

Mel led Nikita through the entirety of the right-wing hallway and across the balcony overlooking the main entrance…the receptionist's desk was still empty.  
The two of them entered the door leading to the left-wing hallway, and near the middle of the extent of the red carpet, there stood a mid-aged creature of tall and skinny stature, with green skin, three eyes, and a delivery-bag under his arm.

"You by chance order the nakku meal?", he asked them grumpily as they approached.

"Yes, that'd be me", Mel replied, coming to a stop in front of the creature.

The delivery-man glared at him.

"Why the Hell do I have to wait fifteen minutes for my pay?", he snarled dully at Mel, who seemed unfazed by the threatening looks.

"You had to wait?", Mel repeated, sounding thourghly amazed that the time had slipped him.  
"Oh, I am so sorry…you see, me and my friend here have been out saving the planet from a monstrous slab of spoiled nakku…is the one in the bag still fresh? If not, I may have to vaporize it!"

The alien glared at him, and Mel laughed in spite of the reaction while Nikita giggled behind him. The Arhk pulled out the money he owed the deliverer and took the bag from him in return.

"What about the tip?", the alien growled at him annoyedly.

"Tip?", Mel repeated curiously.

"I had to wait fifteen minutes", the deliverer snarled.  
"I expect some compensation for my time."

"Oh…well, I don't have anymore money…", Mel said, innocently.  
"How about I just blow you quick and we'll call it a deal?"

The alien looked both outraged and disgusted at Mel's words, and it didn't take him long to stomp past Mel and Nikita towards the exit.

"Hey!..._I was kidding!_", Mel tried to call after him, but it was already too late – the guy had slammed the door to the balcony shut behind him.

Mel shrugged dismissively.

"Whatever", he said lazily, and opened up the door to the room.  
"Looks all clear…c'mon; we gotta turn on the A/C in here!"

Nikita followed him inside – it was indeed hot inside of the room. Mel set the bag onto the bed and hurried over to the conditioning-switches while muttering to himself;  
"I don't know what fool insisted for this place to be a rain forest…"

Nikita sat down on the bed, next to the bag and looked at it hungrily; it smelled very good.

"Dig in", Mel urged, striding over to the 'window' to activate the nocturnal top-story view.  
"I wasn't sure what you wanted to drink, so I got one iced tea and one coke…which one you want?"

"_Usstee_", Nikita replied through a mouthful of nakku-sandwich; he was ever so hungry…

Mel smiled and removed both covered cups from the bag before picking up his own sandwich. He handed Nikita his drink and switched on the television that faced the bed via the remote.

"Ooh! Dey goth uh muhic chuhnoo here!", he exclaimed through his own mouthful of food; he swallowed before going on;  
"Look! _Emperor!_ I love him!"

* * *

The two of them watched television for quite some time after they finished their meal. They both lay on the bed, keeping their feet separated in order to better see the screen. Although Niki was content to simply sit back and watch whatever program was on, Mel was constantly sitting up and pointing at the screen, whether to comment on a commercial or advertisement, or to make a negative comment on something he didn't like (at one time, an erotic-thriller came on, and Mel spent half of the movie yelling; "_Nobody has sex with sheets still wrapped around them!_").  
Eventually, all channels became dominated with telephone-chat commercials, and Mel switched off the television with a click of the remote.

"_Nothing but crap_…", he muttered to himself before turning towards Nikita.  
"You tired?"

Nikita shook his head in reply and glanced at the digital clock: in the planet's day-span, it was almost midnight.

"I'm parched", Mel stated, and he stood up.  
"I'm going to get some sodas from the vending machines…ya want something?"

"No, thanks."

"Well, we'll end up sharing diseases if we share the same can, so I might as well bring two to begin with."

Niki snorted with laughter, and Mel crossed over to the door and opened it.

"Don't let anybody in, okay?", he said, and there seemed some actual concern in his voice.

"Can do", Nikita replied, and Mel left with a nod.

Nikita looked around the room.  
He was alone again.  
And without anyone or anything to avert or steal his attention, it seemed as if he were once more completely open to his fears.  
He heard Mel's footsteps disappear down the corridor, and he wanted nothing more than to rush to the door and leave the room with him…for if he stayed in the room, his fears and terrible subconscious would creep up on him like a monster out of the closet.  
But the shadows already seemed to have become predominant, and as far as Niki was concerned, the floor was covered in snakes.  
Not daring to move, he shivered and stared up at the low ceiling, trying hard not to envision an all-too-familiar face coming at him towards the darkness.

The Perentil's body still lay charred and dead atop the building. His eyes had been open when he had died, but Niki had shot him in the face so many times that it didn't seem to matter anymore…but was there still some chance, even a miniscule chance, that he was still alive?

"_No_", Nikita told himself firmly.  
"_He's dead. I killed him_."

His words to himself gave him no reassurance, however. His hearing seemed to intensify, and every wisp of air emitted from the air conditioner, every buzz of an insect, and every creak of the room settling sounded like an approaching footstep of the Perentil's charred, smoking ghost. Nikita whimpered and gripped the bed sheets below him, while softly praying for Mel to return and bring back the light.  
And then…a voice spoke so dominantly in his head that it actually seemed to be physical;  
"_You're a murderer_…"

Nikita covered his ears vigorously and rolled onto his side, into a small ball, but he couldn't drown out the voice that kept coming at him;  
"_You killed someone…and you're going to regret it…you worthless little fuck. SCREAM FOR ME!_"

Nikita uttered a high-pitched whine through gritted teeth, and his chin touched his chest as he drew himself as tightly together as his body would allow.

"_Niki?_"

Nikita opened one of his eyes and found Mel staring at him concernedly from the open doorway, holding two cans of soft drinks. He nearly dropped these as he closed the door behind him and hurried over to Nikita, who sat up and held out his arms.

"Mel…", he whispered softly, before being enveloped once again in the Arhk's arms.

Mel held him tight, without even asking what was the matter. Perhaps he figured, or maybe he didn't care what was the cause…Niki was just glad to have him close again.

"M'scared, Mel…", he confessed quietly, with his cheek leaned against his friend's shoulder.

"Don't be", Mel replied, in a tone as quiet as Niki's.  
"I'm here."

"…Don't leave me…", Niki pleaded, holding Mel a bit tighter.

The Arhk's reply was accompanied by a responding squeeze from him as well;  
"I won't…I promise."

Niki nodded against Mel's shoulder and slowly raised his head up.  
He looked into the Arhk's eyes, about three inches above his own, and was met with a soft, gentle, and loving gaze.  
He opened his mouth, and shut it again. He hesitated, then opened his mouth again to speak.

"Mel?", he asked quietly.  
"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything", Mel whispered back.

Nikita breathed a few breaths before speaking once more.

"I love you…"

Mel stood, holding Nikita in his arms…then his lip slightly trembled, as if he were about to cry.

"…You mean that?", he squeaked, with a slight break in his voice.

Nikita nodded in response. He did.  
Mel bit back a sob and looked away momentarily before saying to the Experiment;  
"…I love you, too…I've loved you ever since I layed eyes on you."

Niki's mouth parted in emotion, and he released a sob so quiet that it wasn't even heard. He felt tears fill his eyes, and one of them began to stream down the fur on his cheek. Mel reached out a finger and stopped its flow, while perhaps not realizing that a tear of his own had taken course down his face. As Mel had done, Nikita reached up a clawed hand and stopped it. Then, he hand parted into an outstretched palm. He ran his furry hand over Mel's face. He set his hand gently over Mel's warm cheek, and the Arhk did the same. Slowly, ever so slowly, their faces neared eachother – Mel leaned his head down, and Niki rose up on his tip-toes. After what seemed like an eternity of listening to eachother's breaths getting closer and closer, the two of them finally touched lips and kissed tenderly.

Nikita felt shivers galore run up and down his spine like lightning and ice-cold water. He had never ever felt such a sensation, or anything else so intensely electrifying. Mel's lips were so warm, light, and tender, and from them seemed to spill the magic that tracked around his body like an electrical circuit.  
They kissed again, and Mel's lips closed over his own. Nikita felt his arm drape around his shoulders, and he felt a need to do the same thing. He reached up with both arms and wrapped them around Mel's neck, and he drew closer to this living, breathing fountain of bliss, and he felt Mel's other arm slide around his lower back.  
Nikita's eyes had fallen shut, and he kissed Mel on pure instinct and feeling. He didn't know if Mel had any experience, but he handled this kissing-thing like a master; craning and turning his head almost nonstop, and finding ever-changing positions while never losing pace of the kiss. He sucked, overlapped, and re-lapped Nikita's lips so skillfully that Niki decided it would be best to follow.

Nikita sighed softly out of the corner of his mouth as Mel gently slipped his tongue between his lips. Nikita had never felt this action being applied to him…and he loved it immensely. Willingly, he allowed his tongue out of its isolation and met Mel's. Mel's tongue, like a crafty eel, obviously knew what to do, and immediately began a type of seductive rub-up against Niki's, who immediately decided that the only Heaven in existence was in Mel's arms.  
Finally, after several minutes, they broke apart, both of them slightly out of breath. Nikita looked up at Mel's face, and found him smiling lovingly at him.

"C'mon…", he urged in a whisper, and nudged his head in the direction of the bed.

Taking Niki by the hand, he led him over to the plainly-covered mattress. He motioned for the Experiment to lie down first, and Niki happily settled himself with his head on a pillow. Mel pulled his rocker-shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor. He then crawled seductively from the foot of the bed up to Nikita, where he lay above him on all fours. His beak-like mouth met Niki's, and they began their kiss again. This one lasted much shorter than their previous one, and Mel quickly explained why.

"Ya wanna get _nek-kid?_", he suggested with a sly smile, and Nikita replied with an anxious nod.

"Sure…let me sit up for a minute, okay?"

Mel sat back on his shins and Nikita sat up to pulled his vest off. Going by Mel's example, he dropped it off the side of the bed and raised himself up to sit on his shins as well.  
The two of them embraced and kissed again, and Nikita began feeling and reaping the benefit of being shirtless – he almost purred as Mel rubbed his furry chest, while Niki put his arms up around his shoulders.  
Shortly after, Mel broke the kiss and motioned downwards.

"I meant completely nek-kid", he said with a smile.  
"Let's just pull off these hefty bags and get crazy…"

Nikita grinned and nodded, and Mel reached down to begin fumbling with the zipper and button of Niki's pants. The Experiment followed suit, and undid Mel's belt before going after the buttons.

"_Oooh_…", Mel teased as he finished with his struggle and pulled Niki's pants down below his buttocks.  
"No underwear…you're naughtier than I thought."

"I never could afford any new clothes like you", Niki replied with a smile.  
"Besides, with all my fur, I'd imagine it'd get pretty hot – _oh-ho!_"

He finished undoing Mel's slacks, and smirked as he looked back up at his companion.

"You're not wearing any either!", he accused playfully.  
"What's your excuse?"

"Oh, well, you know…", Mel said with an innocent expression.  
"When you sleep around as much as I do, it becomes a real bother to take them off along with your pants, so…"

Nikita giggled and pulled down Mel's pants as far as they would go in his position, and he didn't mind it when the Arhk gave him a slight push so he fell back.

"No worries", he said, and took hold of the legs of Niki's pants.  
"Just let me slide off these bad boys…"

He gave a skillful yank, and Nikita felt a whoosh of air as his pants were pulled cleanly off of his body, like a magician pulling a table cloth out from under a vase. He smiled up at Mel, who quickly discarded his own pants before climbing back on top of Niki to resume the kissing.  
They wrapped their arms around eachother and Mel licked at Niki's lips before continuing the kiss, and Niki pleasured from feeling Mel's body on top of his. He rubbed his legs gently against the Arhk's, and was pleased to feel Mel rubbing back.  
Mel smiled down at Niki and carefully petted the back of his head.

"You okay?", he asked without losing his smile.  
"Let's be careful – I don't want your bandage coming off."

"Oh, don't worry", Nikita assured him.  
"It'll take a saw to get this thing off…you wrapped it around my head so tight, it feels like a vice!"

Mel smirked and began nuzzling Niki's neck.

"_I can hold you in a vice if you wanted me to_…", he growled playfully.

They simply cuddled for several minutes, in which Nikita took in and memorized the smell of Mel's flesh – a mix of light body-mist and the sweat of the moment.  
For the event, it seemed very erotic.  
Niki planted his nose on Mel's shoulder and enjoyed himself by simply smelling the scent of the Arhk whom he held so close to his body.

"You trying to get high off of me?", Mel asked with a laugh.

"I already am", Niki replied in a low murr.

Mel nodded and gave Nikita a small kiss on the forehead.

"How 'bout I give you a turn on top?", he suggested.  
"Nobody could accuse you of being an uke, then."

Niki nodded, and in one motion, Mel had rolled over and now lay on his back, with Nikita sitting on top of him. To his surprise, he found Mel smiling up at him smugly.

"Exactly what I wanted…"

Before Nikita could ask what he meant, he felt the Arhk's hands snake around his body as take hold of his buttocks. He responded with a decisive "_Ooh!_" of surprise, and Mel grinned as he began to massage, rub, and grope at Niki's backside.

"I always thought you had the sexiest ass I had ever seen", he told him.  
"And now, I've been proven to be a full one-hundred percent right on the money."

Niki smiled and began breathing heavily in effect to the pleasure being administrated to him; who would've thought that a butt-massage could be so wonderful?  
Mel worked over this feature of the Experiment's body for some time, and Nikita quickly got the impression that Mel enjoyed watching and listening to the effects of pleasuring him…but it certainly couldn't compare to what was felt by Niki, who enunciated his feelings with several low, drawn-out moans, groans, sighs of pleasure, and the occasional whimper of bliss.

When Mel finally stopped his ministrations, Niki whined like a disappointed child. But the Arhk turned a deaf ear to this, and he rolled over once more to regain the mounted position.

"Sit up a while, baby?", he asked Niki with a smile.  
"I wanna hold you a bit…"

Always open to suggestions, the peach-colored Experiment pushed himself up with one arm and engaged in another hug and kiss with Mel.  
Even though it was returning from pleasurable, lustful intimacy, it still felt good to go back to basic 'cuddle & kiss'.  
They broke away after a minute or two, and were breathing heavily once more. Mel grinned once again and pressed a quick peck against Niki's lips.

"Hey…", he began in a slow pant.  
"How about we…uh…_well, you know_…"

"What…you mean?", Nikita asked, still holding Mel by the shoulders.

Mel hesitated momentarily, then indicated towards his nether-regions. Nikita looked down…and looked back up, wearing a surprised expression.

"Oh…", he said slowly in realization.  
"You…you wanna go the entire way, huh?"

"Uh…yeah", Mel confessed with a small blush before looking away.  
"But, I mean, only if you want to…I'm sorry; I shouldn't have asked. You probably don't…I'm sorry; I'll go put some ice on myself-"

"Let's do it."

Mel left his mouth hanging in mid-air, and he looked up at Nikita; the tables had turned, for now it was the Experiment who wore a slight smirk of playfulness.

"You mean it?", Mel asked.

"Of course", Niki replied.  
"We might as well…it'd feel like a bit of a rip-off if we didn't."

"But…not if you don't want to-"

"I do want to."

"Are you-"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Mel stared open-mouth at the smiling Nikita…before grinning suspiciously and pointing a finger.

"_Wait a minute_…", he said.  
"Don't you go around using my stuff!"

"Sorry", Nikita apologized with a wide smile; he rubbed up against Mel's body cutely.  
"Let me have my moments, okay?"

"Okay, okay", Mel agreed with a smile, and gave Niki a small hug.  
"But you're sure that you want to?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure", Niki said.  
"I love you, after all, and I'd enjoy it…as long as you used a condom."

"A condom!", Mel exclaimed, jumping up from bed.  
"I had one of those! Yes, let me look through my pockets…"

He went through them like a madman deprived, and eventually held up a tube of latex wrapped in a plastic case.

"Got it!", he proclaimed triumphantly.  
"Provisions are set! Lifelines secure! We are ready for liftoff!"

Nikita giggled, and had even more a chance to do so when Mel began struggling to keep it on.

"You having fun?", he asked.

"Oh, lots of fun!", Mel replied in a tone of playful sarcasm.  
"Go watch a video, alright? I'll be playing 'beat the clock' for a while; _this damn piece_…"

Eventually, he managed to slip it on, and raised his arms over his head, as if in victory.

"Super Arhk – _one!_ Latex – _zero!_", he said proudly, and Nikita gave him a small ovation.

Mel turned towards Nikita and showed him a seductive grin. He took a few sly steps over to the bed, and Niki scooted backwards against the pillows as his partner crawled towards; eventually, Mel had Nikita back-to-back with the wall and they kissed lightly, an undenying smile on both of their faces.

"_Mmmm_…you ready, honey?", Mel cooed as they broke apart.

The Experiment nodded and licked Mel's muzzle;  
"Sure thing…"

Mel nearly purred at this and scooted right up against Niki…but paused as he put his arms around him.

"…Are you sure?", he asked him, with concern evident in his voice.  
"I mean…you really don't have to do it just for me, if that's what you're thinking. Hey, after what happened to you earlier night, I can understand if you don't want to…and we don't have to."

Nikita's smile left his face, and was replaced with a look of solemnness he looked into Mel's glinting eyes, and gave a gentle sigh that was neither sarcastic nor exasperated.

"Mel…", he told him quietly, and took his hand into his own.  
"I…this might seem very abrupt, with us doing this and all, right after…you know what…you might figure that there's something wrong with me…but there isn't. I mean it."

He stroked Mel's hand gently and blinked once before continuing.

"I've never felt this before. You and I both know that in our job, we never receive love…only lust. But now…"

He touched Mel's face.

"You make me feel so good…in a way that I've never felt before. The way you touch me and the way you kiss me is wonderful…and I love you. I mean it – I love you completely…and if there was ever anybody who I wished to do it with in the way we are…it's you. You make me forget what happened earlier, and make me feel so much better…please…"

He put his arms around Mel's neck and leaned against his chest.

"Keep the past out of my mind for tonight, alright?"

Mel stayed silent, and considered the depth of Niki's words mutely…  
Then, as if set off, he returned Niki's embrace lovingly and shed a tear that dropped onto the Experiment's furry shoulder.

"I love you, Nikita…", he whispered into Niki's large ears.  
"I mean it, too…I love you like no one else, because you churn my feelings and make me happy in ways that I've never dreamed of…I'd never mean to disgrace or dishonor you…and to have sex with you would be an honor…and perhaps I'd manage to show you just how much I care for you."

The two of them hugged and held eachother close for a long time. They concentrated not on lust or what their hormones wanted, but only on the special feeling that stimulated from their two beating hearts.  
It was strange…they had known eachother as friends for two long years, and now, it seemed quite silly that they had never realized this…'potential'. As they held eachother, their hearts seemed to join together and claim what they felt; "_We belong together!_".  
In their antics that would soon follow and fill the night, the Arhk and the Experiment merged to become one single being of love and bliss, who knew no pain, fear, or toil, and pulsated a warm, flowing energy from it's body that spread throughout the room. They breathed, cried, and yelled for joy together, always hand-in-hand, and always loving the other a thousand times more with each passing moment. When they would fall asleep in eachother's arms later, it would be with the wonderful sense of feeling complete…fulfilled…and, most of all, loved…and that they were no longer alone in the world.


	5. The Beginning Of What Was

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 5

* * *

"_I have climbed the highest mountain,  
I have sailed across the sea,  
I have wrestled with my demons and woke up with only me  
I have been around the block, many times before,  
And I think I deserve just a little more_…"

- _I Want To Be In Love_, Melissa Etheridge

* * *

Nikita slept better that night than any other night that he could remember. He had always figured that sharing a bed with another person would be crowded, hot, and inconvenient…but he decided that he had been proven wrong. For that night, he slept like a log in the forest, with his arms wrapped around Mel's back and his face resting against his chest. Mel smelled good, and he was irresistibly warm. Niki liked that the Arhk had, in turn, wrapped his arms around him possessively – any bit of closeness between himself and his new lover was greatly appreciated.  
He listened to Mel's breathing, in and out, and tried hard to match his pace with his own. He looked at Mel's face, and giggled to himself when he found the Arhk's eyes shut very tightly. Mel breathed through his slightly-parted lips, and this emitted a bit of a rasping noise…but Nikita didn't mind.  
He thought about many things as he lay in the darkness, curled up in Mel's arms. It was some time after they had sex, and the Arhk had fallen asleep promptly enough. Nikita, however, still lay awake and pondered his thoughts as the night carried on. As he stared unblinkingly at the peaceful face of his sleeping mate, he wondered to himself things that he had never thought of…but now that he and Mel were officially 'mates', these once-irrelevant subjects now seemed very worth mentioning.

"_Is there a legal age for me to have sex?_"  
"_How old is Mel? Is he old enough to have sex?_"  
"_If the condom breaks during sex, will I get pregnant?_"  
"_Can I even become pregnant? (bullshit; of course I can't)_"  
"_Can Mel and I get marital licenses on this planet?_"  
"_If we marry, who will be considered the husband and who will be considered the wife?_"  
"_Does Mel's religion say anything against the two of us being together?_"  
"_Does God like homosexuals?_"

He paused on that question…and pondered to himself a more basic proposition;  
"_Am I gay?_"

He wasn't considering his job – true, most of his customers had been males, but doing it with them for a living didn't necessarily determine his sexuality, did it? Then again, he had never considered himself attracted to anyone at all – male or female. Mel had often exuberantly commented on a passing girl's butt or breasts, but Niki had never paid any attention to that. Sex, to him, was always for money, and therefore, he had come to think of it as a perverted and diabolical act of lust and craving…but now, after the sweet, gentle, and loving ministrations that had taken place between him and Mel, he was considering otherwise…after all, if the two partners loved each other, it wasn't just plain sex anymore – it was lovemaking.

…Was it any different with girls?

This brought upon a memory inside of himself. He grimaced at its unpleasantness, but decided to explore it further, for the sake of self-revelation.  
He remembered the time of his life that he had spent in Jumba's lab…it had been more than two years since he had seen it, and since then, he hadn't heard of Jumba or any of the other Experiments. But anyway, he remembered one day, while he was still very naïve, when he had gone up to Jumba in his office to ask him a very serious question.

"Jumba?"

"Yes, 621?"

"Umm…what do I do if I like somebody?"

Jumba wasn't the least bit surprised at the question. After all, it wasn't the first time that he had been asked that – other Experiments had often come to him before to ask advice on relationships, and what they could do to get noticed by their crushes.  
Of course, Jumba's first question had been who it was that Niki had in mind.

"487", Niki had replied, shuffling his feet.

Jumba was caught off-guard.  
Surely 621 had gotten the Experiments' numbers mixed up; 487 was a male.

"No, no – I know who I mean", Nikita had insisted.  
"487…he's the one with the blue fur and all the muscles, right?"

Once more, Jumba was caught off-guard.  
What was going on? What was wrong with 621?  
He had not programmed him to be attracted to other males! There must've been some mistake.

"Here", he had said, as he passed Niki two red-and-white tablets.  
"Take these. It will go away soon."

Niki didn't quite realize what Jumba had mean by 'it', but he swallowed the pills anyway.  
He had no idea what their effects were supposed to be, but he noticed himself sweating considerably more, growing excess hair above his eyes and under his arms, and his genitals seemingly became hyper-sensitive to the lightest contact, leading to many unwanted erections (in response, he began showering more often, shaved his armpits and clipped his eyebrows, and began wearing pants in public).  
But his eyes kept on admiring 487…the Experiment with the superhuman muscles and the piercing on his eyebrow. To Nikita, he was more attractive than any female Experiment in the lab…perhaps it was his muscles; Niki had a thing for hot bodies.

One day, during lunch, Niki had walked up to 487 and told him that he liked him very much.  
At first, there was silence. 487 and the Experiments close enough to have heard Nikita stopped what they were doing and stared at him gapingly. Some looked surprised, and others repulsed. Niki wasn't quite sure what the expression on 487's face meant.  
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, 487's face reddened and he growled at Nikita;  
"What the fuck are you talking about!"

He then rose up with alarming speed and punched Nikita hard in the chest. The smaller Experiment fell back painfully and cried out as he held his hands over his injured sternum. When he blinked back up with tear-filled eyes, 487 was still standing above him, looking as if he had been insulted in the worst of ways.

"You stupid faggot!", he had roared at Niki, capturing the attention of the entire food court.  
"Get out of here now or I'll kill you!"

Nikita knew that he wasn't joking, and as quick as he could, with his chest still heaving in and out with pain, he stumbled to his feet and hurried out of the cafeteria as fast as he could.  
Over the course of the next few weeks, the story of what happened in the cafeteria expanded and became exaggerated among the Experiments, and before long, rumors began flying around the lab.

"_621 has pictures of 487 hanging next to his bed! I hear he stares at them all day!_"

"_Oh yeah? I heard he actually jacks off to them when he's alone!_"

"_I heard he actually tried to kiss him!_"

"_Kiss him? He practically went in for a blowjob! I was there!_"

As these non-truths immersed themselves among the Experiments, Nikita began to isolate himself more and more. He rarely left his dormitory, and he started smoking, in hopes of intensifying his image.  
It didn't do much good, though: whenever he went to use the bathroom or pick up some food, he would be seen by a group of huddled Experiments that would immediately begin whispering behind their hands and pointing at him. More than once, he heard them hiss words of chastise at him; "_Faggot!_" (he looked up both 'faggot' and 'fag' in the dictionary, and was surprised that they both had something to do with a bundle of sticks).  
One time, he had been in line at a vending machine and the Experiment in front of him and turned around, obviously realized who he was, and hit him in the face.

"Queer!", the Experiment shouted at him as he staggered back, holding his nose.

He didn't bother to report this to Jumba…for he knew the matter.  
Jumba had a knack for knowing just about everything that went on with his Experiments, whether it was a fight or a feeling of sadness and isolation among one of them…so why was he hesitating on acting? Niki knew that he had always come to the aid of an Experiment who was being bullied or picked on...so what was so different about this situation?

"_Doesn't he care about me anymore?_"

Niki eventually formed his own conclusion – whether Jumba cared about him or not was regardless…but perhaps, through the allowed intimidations by other Experiments, there might be a chance that the 'it' in him could be expelled.  
Afterwards, Niki hated Jumba. He cursed his name whenever he could, wrote hateful things about him on paper to vent his frustration, and beat his pillow mercilessly, imagining it to be Jumba's face.

"_Why won't you do anything! If you hate me, then come down here and fucking tell me, you fat fuck!_"

He hated the other Experiments almost as much. Why wouldn't they let up? Why was one innocent experience so damn important? Why did they hate him for nothing?

"_You buncha motherfuckers! I hope you all die!_"

…Nikita almost got his wish.  
The day the lab was raided, it seemed as if the day of reckoning had come for everybody. To this day, Niki considered it nothing short of a miracle that (seemingly) all of the Experiments had managed to escape soundly. Where they were now, he didn't know…and didn't really care.  
All he knew was that he seemed to have been one of the few Experiments that cried for Jumba after the raid.

He thought some more…

Had Jumba even considered the possibility, when he began creating Experiments, that one of them could turn out to be gay ("_Am I even gay?_")? Was his shock displayed to Nikita the one of a man who was witnessing the impossible?  
Had he configure them specifically that male/male attraction wouldn't be possible, and that Niki had broken the chain?  
Or had it been the expression of a father who had considered for the first time a serious sign of difference in one of his sons? An unwanted difference?  
Was it that Jumba didn't want him to be gay? - that he considered this a failure in his design? Or was he worried about Nikita in an honest way – that his life would be difficult and ridicule-marked if he remained gay?  
Well, Nikita figured that in being a prostitute, his life was already difficult and ridicule-marked. Did sexuality really make that much of a difference now?

Niki considered his sexuality – did he more often look at girls or at guys?  
…Neither, really. In the past, he hadn't really considered relationships at all. After all, he saw enough guys to hate them, and he had never cooed after girls like Mel did…

So what was he? Gay? Unknowingly straight? Bisexual?  
Better yet – would it make any difference if Mel was a girl?

He pondered for a while…;  
"…_Not really_…"

He could easily imagine Mel being a girl, without much change of stature, voice, or personality. Mel was Mel…and Mel was obviously universal.  
Niki abandoned his past question of sexuality, and now focused on something that had just sprung to mind…he still wondered if Mel could properly be distinguished between a male and a female.  
He looked up into the sleeping Arhk's face and thought deeply.  
During sex, he hadn't really taken the time to look…Mel was certainly manly enough when it came to that subject, but the age-old wondering still held fast in his mind.  
Carefully, Niki lifted up the blanket enough to get a clear look underneath. He wriggled out of Mel's grasp momentarily to duck his head out of sight…and he returned with a bemused expression on his face.

"Well…whaddaya know…"

Nikita smiled to himself and snuggled back against his lover's warm chest. He fell asleep soon afterwards, having forgotten previous matters and once more only being grateful and feeling very blessed to be with the mate of his dreams, whom he loved, no matter what.  
To Hell with the other Experiments. To Hell with Jumba. What did they know about love anyway?  
Nothing. And if they still insisted on being homophobic or wanting to change him, he didn't have to deal with them…for he considered himself to be the luckiest creature in existence: he was separated from all of them by many lightyears, and the loving, caressive arms of Mel…whom he would never ever leave.


	6. Shower

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 6

* * *

Nikita stepped through the doorway of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, but didn't lock it. He slid the moveable panel of the shower door aside and reached inside to turn the knob. At once, a spray of water began to shoot down from the angled shower head above, and Niki stepped back. He pulled off his green shorts, dropped them inside the laundry-basket, and grabbed a bottle of shampoo before stepping inside the shower and sliding the panel closed.  
The cascade of water was a surprisingly soothing wake-up sensation; freeing him from his last remaining shards of sleepiness with warm and tender nudging. He simply stood still for a short minute, his face turned towards the spray, whilst absorbing the sensuous feeling and allowing his short, fine fur to fully wet itself.  
Through the soft rushing and impacting of the water, he heard the door being opened and closed again. Realizing who it must be, Niki remained unperturbed in his peaceful stance and waited for the shower door to be opened behind him. Sure enough, the sliding panel was quick to be pulled back to reveal a still-drowsy-eyed Gomora.

"You trying to run away from me again?", the muscular Experiment asked playfully, scratching his side absentmindedly.

Niki turned around and smiled innocently at his mate, with water dripping continuously from his eyebrows.

"I thought you went back to sleep", he said honestly.  
"I didn't want to wake you back up, so…"

Gomora cocked an eyebrow and replied;  
"Didn't want to wake me up? You mean, you were happy that I wasn't around; _is that it?_"

He said it in a tone of severity, and Niki was taken aback…but Gomora quickly broke out in a laugh, leaving his mate looking and feeling a bit foolish.

"I'm kidding!", he assured Niki, before taking a more sympathetic approach;  
"I'm sorry, baby…I won't do it again…but is it alright if I get in there with you? Please?"

Nikita didn't have to ponder long for an answer…after all, who could stay mad at such a cute face for long?

"Okay…sure", he said with a nod.  
"Come on in…but hop to it; we're letting in cold air."

Gomora grinned and pulled off his Speedos hurriedly. He flipped them over his head with a kick before stepping into the shower and sliding the panel shut behind him.  
Niki picked his bottle of shampoo back up, and squeezed an amount into his hand and began to apply it to his chest.  
Gomora was fast to react.

"Ooh…let me do that, huh?", he asked sweetly, dropping his chin on his mate's shoulder.

"Oh, you…", Niki sighed with half-hearted irritation.  
"No; let me do this."

"Aww, come ooon…", Gomy urged, beginning to put his arms around Nikita's belly.

The smaller Experiment pulled away elusively (although not offensively) from the to-be embrace; feeling a little playful.

"No", he stated flatly, and picked back up the bottle of shampoo and handed it to Gomora.  
"As a matter of fact, you should wash yourself, too…you don't bathe enough as it is."

The muscular one looked down at the bottle disappointedly, then back up at his lover, with the expression of a child who was denied a toy he wanted.

"Nik-kiii…", he moaned softly.  
"Come on…we always…"

But Niki only turned away stubbornly, apparently defiant…but once Gomy wasn't able to see his face, he giggled to himself; it was, after all, all in fun.  
He continued soaping up his fur and Gomora obviously did as well; behind him, Nikita could hear him mutter;  
"_Isn't much of a shower now_…"

Nikita remained resilient of this treatment throughout the rest of the soaping and the rinsing. He shed an occasional glance on his mate, and found him to be looking very dejected and saddened every time. Nikita actually felt bad for his restrained loved one…but in his own right, he felt that being the 'submissive' personality in their relationship entitled him to some occasional teasing. Granted, he enjoyed playing a little trick on his mate…but would be more than happy to make up for it later.  
He had just turned the knob off to stop the water, when Gomora, in a voice that almost sounded, objected;  
"Wait-!...we're not finished!"

"…What do you mean?", Niki asked curiously, turning around with his hand still on the shower's knob.

Gomy reached down and picked up another bottle – scented shower gel.

"We need to use the stuff that makes you smell good", he pointed out.  
"Or…we always use this! Let's not break tradition, right?"

Nikita nodded and sighed to himself; he realized his lover's final attempt at romance, and decided, knowing Gomora, that it'd be fun and worthwhile.

"Oh…okay; you're right", he said, turning the knob once more to restart the flow of water.

He turned back towards Gomora;  
"Okay…can I have the bottle, please?"

He stopped…Gomora was now looking very smug about something.

"Nope…I don't think so", he replied with cool confidence, tossing the bottle carelessly from hand-to-hand.

Nikita blinked some water out of his eyes and stared confusedly at Gomora; unsure.

"…What do you mean?", he asked.

Gomy continued to smile.

"You're not getting out of this shower…", he stated smartly.  
"Until you let me rub you up a bit."

Nikita groaned exceedingly in both desperation and realization of his mate's plan; Gomy had already stepped in front of the sliding panel, leaving him 'trapped'.

"C'mon…gimme the bottle", he insisted.

Gomora only held out the bottle teasingly. Niki made a grab for it, but his mate pulled it out of reach just in time.

"Come and get it!", he chortled, as his loved one stepping up and making a second grab for the bottle.

"_Come on – cut it out!_", the smaller Experiment said, jumping as he tried to nab the bottle again.

Gomora only held the bottle over his head and laughed as Niki continued jumping up and down, trying to reach the bottle. Gomy's extra inches made the difference; it was too easy for him to hold something out of Niki's reach.  
He wasn't, of course, trying to appear cruel or bullying…like Niki, he was now defiant, yet playful in his resolution…it wasn't the first time that the two of them had played around like this.  
All of the sudden, as he came down from a repeated jump, Niki slipped fast on the wet shower floor, and fell forward without warning.

_THUNK!_

The sound was that of the bottle of shower gel hitting the floor. Without any hesitation, as if it were instinct, Gomora had dropped the bottle and had grabbed Nikita with both arms as he fell against his chest. There was a sharp noise of scratching, as the claws on Niki's feet scratched long indentations into the shower floor.  
They stood like this for a minute or so, with Gomora's arms barely gripping Niki around his neck and under his arms, and Nikita barely being able to hold onto Gomy (whose chest his face was being pressed into) and almost completely immobile (his arms were pressed over his head awkwardly from Gomora's hurried catch).  
The water continued to spray down on them, and the remaining shampoo suds disappeared down the drain. The only sound besides the spraying of the water was their combined, heavy breathing…and, perhaps, their hearts as slowed down to their regular rate.

After a while, Nikita seemed to regain his voice again.  
He looked up at his loved one and blinked.

"…Thank you…", he said quietly.

Gomora looked down, into Nikita's eyes, and smiled softly.

"Hey…don't worry about it."

He lifted Niki back into a standing position. Niki regained his footing, but didn't step away from his mate, whose arms still lightly held him. Another short, watering silence came upon them, in which Niki only looked down Gomora's chest in an embarrassed sort of way, and the larger Experiment looked down his mate's forehead, unsure of what to do or say.

"Errr…", he began slowly.  
"…You okay, baby?"

Niki raised his head timidly.

"Yeah…", he replied.  
"Thanks again…for catching me."

"Hey…what'd I just tell you?", Gomora said with a smile.  
"Of course I'm gonna catch you…I love you."

Niki looked up and his eyes met his lover's. He laughed, out of the realization of the awkwardness of the matter…and because of the sight of Gomy – his half-mohawk, now wet, had stooped down half-and-half down the sides of his head. It looked quite ridiculous.

"What?", Gomy asked, laughing along with Nikita.  
"What? What's wrong? What have I done?"

"Nothing, honey…", Niki giggled.

He laughed a bit more, but eventually straightened back up and smiled at his loved one.

"I thank you for saving me from a would-be painful plunge…I guess I need to make it up to you, huh?"

"No, no, no", Gomora replied immediately, waving his hand with exaggerated modesty.  
"Real super heroes never work for rewards."

"Mmm…but I want to repay my super hero", Niki purred seductively, leaning onto Gomy as he wrapped his arms around him.  
"Please…what can I do for my savior?"

Gomy stood still for a moment and scratched his head thoughtfully.

"I dunno…I can't think of anything."

"You wanna have sex later?"

"Let me think about that – yes, please."

Niki smiled and chest Gomy's chest lightly. He felt a shiver run up the orange Experiment's spine.

"Until then…", he said, eyeing the bottle of gel that had been dropped earlier.  
"How about I…apologize for my difficulties before and…sucuumb to your charm and let you soap me up a bit?"

Gomora perked up at this proposition, and his approval for such an idea clearly showed on his face;  
"Ooh…I'd be thrilled", he answered, his eagerness accompanied by an attempted slyness.

Nikita kneeled down and scooped the bottle back. He squirted some of the fluorescent, silver-colored liquid into his hands and lathered it between his palms.

"You don't mind if I join in, do you?", he asked sweetly.

"Oh!...feel free!", Gomora replied with hurried anxiousness, while supplying gel to his hands so hastily hat he was spilling a large amount of it.

Nikita smiled to himself and stepped closer to Gomy. He placed his hands gently on his mate's chest, and Gomora, as if stunned by this action, immediately slowed his pace. He leaned back his head and emitted a soft groan and a pur as Niki rubbed over and gently squeezed his well-formed pectoral muscles.  
Very gently, he placed his arms around his smaller lover. He set one hand into the small of his back and the other against Niki's slim chest, and slowly began caressing his lover.  
Nikita felt the pace of his heart slowly began to speed up. He rubbed down to Gomora's abs, and beneath crimson fur, he felt the compact potency of his muscles.  
Once more, he felt incredibly grateful for being in the arms of such a strong, loving mate.

Gomora lowered his head and looked down at his soulmate. He slid a tender hand around to his side and gave him a playful squeeze. Niki giggled and stepped up against Gomy, where he began to rub his upper back and shoulders.  
Gomora continued to rub and tickle Niki's sides. Even though he was paying careful attention to what he was doing, he was mostly transfixed only on the peach-colored Experiment's face.

"_God, he's so beautiful_…"

Gomora was so much larger than Niki. He could nearly wrap his arms around him twice. With an outstretched palm, from finger-to-thumb, he could almost span from the middle of his back to center of his chest. He could very easily hurt him if he wasn't careful.  
This delicacy about him made him seem so much precious, and Gomora felt more possessive about him than he ever felt about anybody or anything else. As he traced his hands down Niki's hips, it felt as if he were touching a porcelain statue…ever so destructible, by his hands, if ever he felt like it…

But why would he ever feel that urge?  
He smiled to himself…knowing the answer: because he'd surely then be forced to deal with a spitfire that left even the most colossal figures backing off.  
Often, he thought of Niki as a grenade disguised as a statue…or an Angel ready to go crazy at the slightest notice.  
He giggled as he thought this, and Niki looked up at him.

"Something wrong?", he asked.

"No…nothing's wrong", Gomora replied, and kissed Niki on the tip of his nose.  
"Just…just thinking about kissing you."

Niki smirked playfully.

"And that's something to laugh about?"

Gomora smiled and placed a light hand behind Niki's head.

"No…nothing to laugh about, honey…"

And then, they kissed.

* * *

Afterwards, the two of them stepped carefully out of the shower and dried off with separate towels. Niki went to work with the blow-dryer while Gomora stepped onto a stool to face the mirror, where he carefully re-worked his mohawk with mousse and a comb.  
Niki looked up at Gomy as he finished drying himself, while the larger of the two put the finishing touches on his flamboyant hairstyle.

"Any ideas on what we can do today?", he asked.

"Oh, I don't know…", Gomy replied, hopping down and immediately pulling Nikita into his arms.  
"You mean besides doing absolutely nothing?"

"Mmm-hmm", Niki answering, nuzzling Gomy's warm, sweet-smelling fur.

"Well…", the crimson Experiment began thoughtfully.  
"It's close to noon, now, so we could have lunch in a while, then take a replenishing nap…"

Niki nodded his head in agreement and went on to nuzzle Gomora's neck.

"Then, after that, I needed to drop into downtown, run some errands and pick up the groceries…"

"I'll come with you", Niki murmured absentmindedly, while still snuggling against his mate.

"Afterwards, we come back home, and do some house-cleaning; this place really is a mess…then we can order out dinner, and finally get around to doing the dishes…"

"_Alright_…"

"Then…you feel like going to the disco? I think Argo and Aries are gonna be there tonight."

"Sounds good to me…"

"Finally…after we come home…if you want to…why don't we…?"

Niki looked up at his lover and nodded in response to the unspoken question.

"I promised, didn't I?"

Gomora smiled widely and wrapped all four of his arms around Niki lovingly. He kissed him on his lips and then nuzzled him, feeling the smaller one enjoying the cuddling immensely.

"I love you…"

"I love you, too, Gomy…"

And for some time, they stood there and just hugged – happy, as always, to have eachother and to be together.


	7. Hope

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 7

* * *

Nikita awoke later in the morning. The holo-screen that represented a window showed the orange glow of dawn.  
He rolled over and groped around for Mel, but he was nowhere to be felt. Squinting, Niki opened his eyes and lifted his head. The window-side of the room that he faced showed no sign of Mel. Niki then rolled over onto his opposite side and looked there, too. Mel wasn't in the room.

"…Mel?"

As if on cue, the door to the room opened and Mel, dressed once more, stepped in. He looked up, saw Niki awake, and his face brightened considerably.

"Hey there, gorgeous!", he called pleasantly.  
"Finally awake?"

"Yeah…", Niki replied grogilly, though he smiled as he sat up.  
"Where'd you go?"

"Bathroom", the Arhk answered quickly, taking a seat on the mattress.  
"But you're my real relief – c'mere, you!"

The two of them hugged and then proceeded with passionate, close-lipped kiss; Niki hadn't brushed his teeth yet. When they broke apart, Mel gave his lover an additional smooch on the cheek and squeezed him tight.

"How'd you sleep, baby?", he asked Niki, and began dropping light pecks over his lips.

"I slept very good, thank you very much", the Experiment replied with a smile.  
"I dreamt of you…"

"Must've been one Hell of a nightmare", Mel murred as he nuzzled Niki's neck, elicting a giggle from his lover.  
"If you'll believe it, I dreamed of you, too…as a matter of fact, I believe I had a revelation last night."

"Oh?", said Nikita, perking up with interest.  
"What do you mean? What was it?"

Mel let go of Nikita and leaned back on the mattress with one hand. He looked down and around the room carelessly, thereby increasing Niki's anticipation. The Experiment didn't feel tired anymore.

"C'mon; what is it?", Niki pried, taking Mel's hand into both of his own and squeezing it.  
"Tell me!"

Mel smiled slyly and scratched at his chin with one finger.

"Well…", he began slowly, lifting both legs onto the mattress.  
"I was thinking…this really isn't the life, is it? This really isn't the place for us. This place is crap. This job is crap. Everything around here is crap. Hooking is crap. And I'm not gonna stand for it any longer."

"…What do you mean?", Nikita asked curiously, leaning closer.

Mel smiled an odd smile and laid his head back.

"Well, I got up early and looked through my cash", he continued slowly.  
"And… I was surprised. You know how much I had saved together?"

"…No, how much?", Niki asked curiously.

"Exactly twenty thousand credits and five cents", the Arhk answered, and dwelled pleasuredly in the shocked expression on Nikita's face.  
"Yep…that's a whole lot of money, huh? Never trusted the banks, anyway."

"…That's two years' worth of work!…in the average job", Niki exclaimed, before dropping off slightly.

"Exactly", Mel said.  
"So…I'm sorry that I lied a bit, but I did more than use the bathroom. I left the building for a while to walk down the street…well, two streets actually…but I walked down to that place - _Ura Universal Travel Company_, y'know?"

Nikita nodded eagerly.

"Well…I decided to step inside…just to admire the lovely desk-girl, _heh heh_…but I went on and inquired about, uh…space fare tickets, and I-"

"_You what!_", interrupted Nikita, straightening up and staring at Mel with eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

Mel waved a hand to silence Niki and went on;

"Anyway, I asked how much the tickets for the space fare was…and when the lady replied, I almost fell out of my chair – they want _222,000 credits_ for a one-way shot to the closest planet! Can you believe that?"

Nikita's heart fell…but still hovered undecidedly in mid-air – surely, Mel wouldn't have built him up like that only for disappointment…but what was he getting at? What was going on?

"Well, your Super Arhk really couldn't stand for that…", Mel went on.  
"So I went outside and smoked one or two before a solution came to me. I hurried back inside, and asked about one-way tickets to the other side of the planet…but they didn't have them, either!"

Nikita's heart sank a bit more prominently.

"But the lady said to me…", Mel continued, before putting on a high-pitched voice of imitation;  
"_'But you can check at_ Citro Travel Agency, _right down the street from us; I'm sure they sell what you're looking for'_."

Niki's heart leapt.

"So I ran down the streets, crashed through the doors of this new place, and…"

Mel stopped and sniggered lightly.

"I think the people in there were about to shoot me, in surprise…either they've never seen an Arhk, or they've never seen an Arhk in high-tops. Because of that, I probably waited longer than anybody else there, but I finally got up to the desk, and asked about one-way tickets around the planet. They didn't even respond; just handed me a flier of information."

Mel proceeded to pick up an imaginary sheet of paper and skim through it;  
"One-way…one-way…ah, there it was: one-way tickets to quadrant four, for a traveling pair: 15,000 credits."

Nikita was almost on edge with excitement, and he asked slowly, his voice teeming with thrill;  
"…So…what did you…?"

Mel smiled smugly, secretively. He reached around and felt into his back pocket. He placed his other hand behind his back too, and grinned at Nikita;  
"Which hand, sweetie?"

Niki put a hand to his mouth excitedly and looked eagerly to both sides, and guessed;  
"Uh…right hand?"

Mel's grin widened;  
"Close enough, baby."

He extended his right arm…and held out what had to be two one-way passes.  
The effect was instantaneous: Mel barely had time to draw in breath before Nikita had leapt forward and hugged him around the neck with such momentum that he knocked both of them off of the bed. With a yelp and a painless _thump_, Mel found himself on his back with all of Nikita on top of him, seemingly about to squeeze the life out of him.  
Before he could even say anything, Nikita had released him and was looking at him, more seriously than ever before.

"You're not kidding, right?", he asked him, with all the earnesty in the world.  
"You're not bullshitting me now, right? You're…you're serious…right?"

Despite his surprise, Mel managed a smile and nodded as he replied calmly;  
"Yeah…two tickets to the mid-east region of the planet. One-way; no comebacks."

It happened slowly, but significantly: Nikita's expression changed; the corners of his lips raised themselves into a smile that made use of his wide mouth, and his eyes lightened and widened to a point that seemed to tear the traces of his eyelids. He seemed somewhere between disbelief and outright glee…whatever it was, it was undoubtedly the happiest that Mel had ever seen him.  
Then, so quickly that it seemed spontaneous, Nikita reached out, cupped his hands around Mel's face, and leaned in to kiss him deeply – the first kiss that he had ever lead and controlled.  
When Nikita finished the one-way smooch, he nearly tackled the Arhk again as he threw his arms around him.  
Mel paused…but it wasn't before long that a smile dawned upon his face.

"I take it that I made a good move?", he asked playfully, stroking Nikita's back.

The peach-colored Experiment purred to his heart's extent as he rubbed his cheek against Mel's chest, squeezing his lover tightly. He kissed Mel's exposed skin and looked up at his soulmate's eyes, his own being tear-drenched.

"You…you really mean it?", he whispered to Mel, his voice shaking with emotion.

The speechlessness had disappeared from the Arhk's face by now, and was now replaced by a true smile of affectivity.

"Of course I mean it", he answered.  
"I wouldn't lie to my boy, now would I?"

With that, he lifted Nikita into his arms and tackled him playfully onto the bed. He pinned him down gently by the wrists, but ended the restraint shortly, in favor of some cuddling. Mel lowered himself softly onto Niki's body and the two of them wrapped their arms around eachother lovingly. Their lips touched briefly for a few quick pecks before they squeezed eachother tight again, with Niki sobbing into Mel's shoulder.

"C'mon, honey – no tears", Mel urged as he sat up and pulled Niki up with him.  
"Be happy! We're getting the fuck outta here!"

Nikita suppressed a sob and wiped at his nose with the back of his palm, his eyes watering with tears.

"I-I can't believe it…y-you d-d-did it…"

"I know, baby; I can't believe it either", Mel said with a smile.  
"I've got it all planned out, too – after we arrive, we find ourselves a nice, average apartment, and with the leftover money, we can buy food and keep the rent for at least a quarter of a year. During that time, we find ourselves some jobs that don't involve taking off your clothes in front of strangers, and we save up enough money to buy a condo, and we live happily ever after!"

Mel threw his hands into the air, but he was quickly back to Earth and was staring at Niki very seriously.

"Niki…do you realize what this means?", he asked slowly.  
"We are going to get out of here. Once we get there, we can get a place entirely to ourselves! We'll earn every cent of the money we make, and we'll finally have a chance, the best chance there is, to make it. Not big or illustrious…but we'll finally have more than what we've had here…much, much more."

Mel closed his mouth and gazed fixedly at Nikita, his dreamy-eyed expression still in place. He raised a hand to Nikita's face, and slowly placed it over his cheek;  
"It's gonna be only you and me from now on, baby…can you believe it?"

Niki placed his hand over Mel's. He couldn't believe it…it was too good to be true. He couldn't express himself. His tears were those of happiness, and even though they prevented his face from showing it, he felt happier and more exuberant than he had ever felt in his life. Not since last night had he known just how wonderful life could feel…and until now, he didn't believe it to be possible to this extent.

"Who knows", Mel said softly, removing his hand from Niki's face and kissing him on the cheek.  
"After we've settled down, maybe I'll get you a ring."

Niki's eyes widened – had he heard correctly?  
His mouth fell open, and his eyes began brimming with tears – but Mel was quick to kiss him once more. With his tongue, he licked away his tears in one motion and smiled lovingly.

"No time for crying, baby", he whispered, and gently pulled Niki to his feet.  
"I need you to do something."

"…What should I do?", Niki asked, sniffing away his tears obediently.

"I need you to pack all your stuff together – we're never coming back to this shithole", Mel told him.  
"Easier done than said; it's not like we've got too many possessions, huh?…but I've gotta go back out and make some more arrangements with the bus and stuff, and that's gonna take a while, so…oh baby, _please_ don't look at me like that."

Niki was looking genuinely saddened that Mel had to go out again so soon, and with his still-damp eyes, he resembled a weeping puppy.

"C'mon, baby", Mel said as soothingly as he could.  
"It's just for the day. I'll be back by the time the sun goes down…then the two of us can have some fun, and we're out of here by tomorrow…we can do that, right, baby?"

He sat down next to Nikita and put his arm around him. He pressed a small kiss against the Experiment's furry cheek and gave his shoulder a small, 'you-okay-with-that?' shake.  
Niki sat quiet for a moment and said nothing…but then he turned his head sideways and returned the kiss onto the tip of Mel's beak, smiling.

"Okay, okay", he gave in, still grinning.  
"You go get that done – I'll find two plastic bags and have our stuff together in no time."

"You're my angel", Mel purred and hugged Niki around his neck, before glancing at the nearby digital clock and exclaiming;  
"_Shoot!_ I'm late!"

He leapt up and made it to the door in one bound. He stepped out halfway and turned back to Nikita.

"Think bright, happy thoughts!", he told him, his smile as wide and giddy as possible.  
"Think of a desk-job, our own apartment, and a ring around your finger! I love you, baby!"

And with that, he blew a kiss at Niki and was out the door.  
Niki sat on the bed silently. He rubbed the sheets between his fingers as his feet dangled a few inches above the floor. He was still doing his best to absorb all of the wonderful things that had been presented to him in a short matter of minutes. He wasn't even fully awake yet, and he had been assured that the coming night would be his last in this dark, grungy place that he had shared in occupying for more than two years. In less than ten minutes, he had been told by his brand-new-beloved that the toil was close to ending, and that they would be able to live their own private life together. If he had heard this only the morning before, he would've laughed sarcastically. How could this be true? Was it real? – or was he dreaming?  
Niki pinched the skin of his skinny arm once, then harder. It hurt, and he sprung off of the bed with joy: it was real!

Hurrying over to the door, he turned the lock and sidled safely against the flat surface; he didn't want anybody walking in on him when he was so exuberantly happy.  
He walked back over to the bed and made it for no reason. Then, he flopped down onto the creaseless covers and switched on the television with the remote. The weather-screen on the side of the room displayed a storybook-sunrise, and Niki closed his eyes blissfully and sighed, pretending that warm rays were heating his body. He reached beneath the bed and pulled forth the delivery bag from last night; there were still some fries inside. They were cold and a bit soggy, but he chewed the remaining few slowly, the salty taste waking his mouth. On the television, Emperor was playing reruns from the previous night. A song called 'Time to Fly' was playing, and Niki smiled to himself and nodded, as if in ascent to the song. He began humming along to the lyrics, before singing along silently under his breath.

* * *

The process of collecting his and Mel's possessions was one that was one that was (as Mel had said) almost easier done than said; neither of them had very much of anything, much less anything of very much worth.  
Niki cautiously peered out around the corner of the door of his room before heading out (the person he'd least have liked to see was the boss, but he was nowhere in sight). He made a right, which lead him to the end of the left-wing corridor. He opened the door and stepped inside.  
There were no bathrooms or vending machines here; only two walls decked with small lockers and a ventilation shaft close to the ceiling. The room was empty, and Niki felt grateful that he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of anybody; he was awful at combination locks. His locker, number thirty-four, was as small as all the others: roughly one-and-half feet, squared. It opened on the third try, and Niki pulled out his few meager possessions: he folded his single spare vest into a makeshift carrying-sack, and placed inside of it a can of deodorant, a toothbrush, a small pair of scissors, two credits of reserve-money, and the card-key of his dorm in Jumba's lab (it had stayed in his pocket during the raid).

After emptying everything out of the locker, he slammed it shut with disdain ("_Last time I'll use you again_") and moved on to Mel's locker, which was number forty-nine: one up, halfway-over. Mel had told him his combination a long time ago, and encouraged him to take some of his money if he ever needed it. Niki never had done so (or had been to modest ever to take any), so it felt remotely strange opening Mel's locker for the first time. Niki had never seen the inside of anybody else's locker, and upon peeking into Mel's, he was surprised at just how full it was, compared to his own. Mel kept his entire wardrobe folded and stacked neatly in here, and Niki amused himself by looking at the all-too-familiar outfits as he pulled them out. Once all the clothes had been emptied out, Niki realized that behind them, Mel had been keeping his other 'valuables', as if wanting to hide them from first glance. There was enough makeup to keep an actress happy, several gold and silver rings that Niki had never seen him wear before, a comb, a long-expired library card, a palm-sized copy of the Bor'an (the religious scriptures), and no less than thirty-four credits.

Niki's gaze weighed on the plastic currency longer than any of the other articles. He had always known about Mel's personal stash, and had always figured that it was bigger than his own, but the simplicity of the money just sitting there undisturbed in the locker was strange. Niki rubbed it between his fingers – the smooth slides were still cool from sitting dormant.  
Hadn't Mel taken all of his money out of his locker to buy the airbus tickets? It seemed a silly thing to leave this odd number of credits behind…what was more, why hadn't Mel thought of leaving the pouf sooner- he wouldn't have needed exactly twenty thousand credits to get away from this place; why not get out sooner? Where did this sudden horizon of sunshine come from?  
Niki shrugged the thought off, once more filling his mind with bright, happy thoughts. He extracted the rest of the credits while he daydreamed of apartments and double-beds and rings, and pushed the door of Mel's locker shut gently once it had been completely emptied. He gripped the four corners of his makeshift-bag and carried it at his side as he exited the 'locker room', feeling the door exhale a brief gust of air as it fell shut behind him.

Then, there came the horrible waiting: the torturous, agonizing looking-forward to a time that never seemed to get any closer.  
Niki had used his two credits to buy himself a few candy bars and a soda from the vending machines at the end of the right-wing hall (skipping across the balcony to avoid being seen), and now sat back in the room, chewing as slowly as he could, wanting to pass the time faster. The television had become completely obsolete to him now, and instead, he stared at the digital clock as the alien digits cycled through their set phases again and again. He stored his remaining candy bar on the commode for Mel, and reflected how neither chocolate nor sugar could top the sweetness of his lover's lips.

Absentmindedly, he fingered through the vest-sack that lay at the bottom of the bed, and pulled out Mel's Bor'an. He didn't know much about religion, even though Mel's spiritual outburst from the night before hadn't been the first. He flipped through the small pages, pausing here and there to read a phrase that looked interesting. It was soon clear that the fundamentals of this faith lay more in moral philosophy than it did in gods: love, elemental purity, and non-violence were the main topics. Niki thought it was strange to practice elemental purity on a city-conquered planet, and he flipped through the book some more. He looked for topics that interested him (mainly homosexuality), but wasn't too successful at this offhand word-search. The index at the back of the book was vague, yet surprising; his eyes stayed on the words 'Dragon', 'heathen', 'bastard', and 'harlot': it seemed strange to have such harsh words in the scriptures of such a seemingly-harmonious religion. Perhaps he'd ask Mel about it, later. He read on a bit more about miracles, religious figures, and something called 'feng shui' before putting the book down – religion seemed an extremely complex thing. He wondered why Mel was into it.

* * *

Hours continued to snail by, and Niki felt as though he were back in Jumba's classroom, waiting for the afternoon bell to sound. He never really was a good student: he didn't like being made to sit still, and lying around an enclosed room for hours on end didn't help.  
There was nothing to do, and Niki began wondering if he had entered a state of conscious sleep paralysis. He was eventually startled awake by a hammering on the door: somebody else had a customer waiting. Niki didn't feel like moving, so he called back that the room was in use, while doing his best to imitate the sound of the bed creaking. The female voice outside the door sighed, somewhere between exasperation and despair. Niki immediately felt horrible – he wanted to say something, but the soft sound of footsteps faded away into nothing, and Niki was left with the sounds of his recreation of the sound of prostitution. He was disgusted at himself.

Day turned into evening, and evening turned into preemptive night. Niki hadn't been outside all day, but his internal clock told him that it was already quite dark outside. His half-closed eyes reverted back to the television screen; his pupils had become numb from its incessant glare. It was the news channel, and apparently, the Grand Coucil (so many light-years away) was once more having trouble with the Predalatians (darkly referred to as 'Predators'), who were, again, refusing to allow an inspection of their isolated system. Nikita really had no interest in intergalactic politics (as they mattered so little in his illegally-entwined life), but the Predators, in their flowing black robes and glowing red eyes, were always a sight to see…even though everybody knew they were vicious, perverse killers.  
Abruptly, their was another loud hammering at the door, so loud it made Niki lift his head in alarm, but before he could call out to ask who it was, a long-awaited voice from outside the door confirmed his hopes;  
"Hello? Excuse me, but I've had a report about a violently-sexy furry something occupying this room, and I'm here to rattle that bad boy out even if it takes me all night and most of the morning!"

A joyous, open-mouthed smile breaking his face, Niki sprung from the bed with renewed energy and swung the door open.

"_Rawr!_"

Mel burst into the room, immediately lifting Niki up in a tackle, and landed with him playfully on the bed (he had skillfully kicked the door closed upon entering). No words were exchanged, only endless, deep kisses and giggles from both of them. Mel's scaled arms held Nikita close to him as the small Experiment writhed (and panted slightly) beneath him in joy and pleasure, his hands reaching up to caress the Arhk's head, thereby mussing up his blade-tight hair.  
Only after a fair amount of kissing did the two of them break away, and Mel looked down Nikita, and spoke to him with his voice and eyes as soft and sweet as melted chocolate;  
"Hey, my Niki…miss me?"

"Endlessly…my Mel", Niki replied in a soft purr, as he leaned up to nuzzle his lover's neck.

Mel returned the nuzzle, caressing Niki's face with beak-like muzzle. The two of them mewed quietly to eachother as they exchanged these soft gestures, and Mel managed to get another small kiss in before he lifted his head again.

"So…are we all packed? Did you remember my locker combination okay?"

"Yeah…", Niki replied dreamily, rubbing his hands up and down Mel's arms.  
"You get everything sorted out?"

"'Course I did; I'm Super Arhk", Mel replied with a smile.  
"Sorry it took so long – the bus office was quite a-ways away, and then I had to wait for some hours, get the registration…"

Niki cocked his head.

"Do we have to walk far to get to the pickup point?"

"Oh, no", Mel said, shaking his head.  
"No, that's much closer. We just gotta get up early, catch a taxi, and be at the terminal early enough to account for our possessions, our money…"

As Mel mentioned money, Niki remembered what he had noticed earlier in the locker room.

"Oh!…uh, Mel?"

"Yes, my deity of sexiness?"

"Um…the tickets are paid for, right?"

"That is correct, my idol of romantic fantasia."

"And the money that we're gonna use to get our own apartment and stuff…you have that with you, right?"

"As safe as you are in my arms, _mon ami_."

"Where is it?"

"Reach into my pants."

"What?"

"It's hidden underneath the rocket ship."

"Mel, come on…"

"Okay, okay, baby…"

He reached behind himself and pulled a new wallet out of the pocket of his slacks, and opened it to display several brightly-colored, high-worth credits.  
Niki eyed them somewhat suspiciously.

"…Did you change for larger ones at a bank?"

"Of course I did", Mel replied, still smiling.  
"I didn't want to lug around thousands of individual credits – I got 'em changed for these. See the color? They're worth a hundred each. They'll get us a nice apartment and some decent food until we start earning our own."

Niki had never seen credits worth so much, but he thought back to the bag on the floor.

"But what about the other thirty-four credits in your locker?"

"…Thirty-four credits?", Mel repeated, sounding confused as he looked down at Niki.

"Yeah, you had thirty-four credits in your locker; I put them in the b-…my vest."

Mel said nothing for a moment, and his face revealed that he was thinking.  
Niki was confused – certainly, Mel wouldn't just forget thirty-four credits in his locker (where he kept his money to begin with), and his obvious lack of an answer wasn't appealing to his credit, either (not the currency).  
Finally, after a time that seemed far too long for any simple answer, Mel's smile returned to his face, and he ran his hand across the fur on Niki's head.

"…Silly you", he said slyly.  
"You didn't think that I was gonna drag my boy along without a nice, hot breakfast inside of him, did you? I was gonna buy us some food before we got on the bus – it's a bit of a ride before we arrive at our new life, y'know!"

Niki couldn't help but blush, and he tried to turn his head away.  
Mel seized the opportunity and leaned down to resume the nuzzling-game.

"_You…are…the…sexiest…most beautiful…most wonderful_…", Mel cooed as he rubbed his warm muzzle over Niki's soft, furry neck and up to his face.

The Experiment purred and mewed vividly as the Arhk's wonderful caresses soothed him. His hand found their way to his back once more, and slowly, they began to work under the neck of his shirt.  
Mel raised his head only slightly, and looked deeply into his lover's eyes – eyes that held a certain innocence, despite their experience of ravage.

"Hey…sorry I took so long", he whispered.

"It's okay", Niki whispered back.  
"Just…"

Once more, they found their way into a kiss. Their eyes fell closed, and Mel's reassuring lips told Nikita that the coldness had passed – there would only be warmth for him tonight.  
Niki's hands worked their gentle way down to the bottom of Mel's shirt, and with his lover's cooperation, he pulled it off. Mel, now shirtless, grinned and reached down to turn out the shoulder-rigs of Niki's vest, releasing the tan creature from his garment. Both shirtless, they wrapped eachother once more in a deep hug and kiss, and Mel dropped slowly to his side. Niki snuggled against his warm, tender body, and leaned as deeply into the kiss as he could. All the anxiety of awaiting that had filled him throughout the day faded away as a feeling of delight crept into him…a deep, passionate, sexual feeling…  
Mel broke away, and eyed Niki with a foxy smile.

"Hey…sit up for me, would you?"

"…Why?"

"C'mon; you're gonna like this."

Nikita did as he was told, and felt his skin tingle with anticipation. He sat up and scooted against the wall of the bed, and Mel slithered up to start sucking at his neck. Niki felt Mel's hands move down his chest and stomach, and he shivered once more as they came to rest at the waistline of his slacks. Carefully, Mel began to slide them off, and the Experiment gave no objection. Mel pulled the pants down Niki's smoothly-furred legs and off of his ankles, throwing them on the floor.

"_Mmm_…I just know you're gonna enjoy this…"

The Arhk began trailing kisses down Niki's neck, who cooed with pleasure. Mel continued to kiss down his chest, past his stomach…past his waistline…  
Immediately, Niki squirmed and back against the wall as far as he could, his face burning.  
Mel looked up at him in both surprise and anxiousness, as if he were afraid to have done something wrong.

"…Nobody's ever…", Niki said quietly, his hands squeezing the sheets beneath him.  
"I haven't…I don't…"

Mel's face smoothed into an understanding smile, and he took Niki's hands into his own (sparing the near-shredded sheets).

"Hey…it's okay", he told him gently, squeezing his hands.  
"I understand it seems kinda strange if nobody's ever given you oral sex…but believe me: it's better than you think."

Niki kinda believed that – he had given more oral sex during his hooking days than he wished to remember, and he considered it disgusting (part of the reason why he had refused to give it to the Perentil). But he had never ever received it, and to see somebody's face so close to privates was a bit disconcerting, even if it was Mel's face.  
But his lover kept on smiling, and squeezed Niki's hand again in reassurance. Niki relaxed slightly, sought out the integrity in Mel's eyes, and slowly nodded.

"Okay…okay…but…not…not too fast, okay?"

Mel nodded, his smile still showing.

"_Right-o_."

He began to lower his head once more, and Niki followed his movement intently with his eyes. He saw his own excitement erect despite his anxiety, saw Mel's face lower itself even deeper, and then-  
As if by reflex, Niki's head shot up, almost hitting the back of the wall. With his eyes wide, he stared at the ceiling without seeing it at all, his legs twisting and writhing as his hands found the back of Mel's head. He uttered a tiny sob of surprise, fear, and immediate pleasure, and swayed his head stiffly to one side.

"_Ohhh…ohhh…ahhh…Mellllll_…"

It was wonderful. He had never felt such a sensation, even during sex the night before. This was different – it was exciting, dramatic, and even somewhat-hardcore. Tension shot into his shoulders, only to be immediately released by a reverberating moan of pleasure, and his neck became poseable once more as he writhed from side to side. He cooed, groaned, cried, and mewed nonstop, his hands caressing through Mel's shard-like hair over and over again.

"_Mmmm…yeahhh…ohhh…ohh, please_…"

Then faster, more urgent, as if he were losing time on a necessary objective;  
"_Mmmm!…oh-oh-oh! Mel-Mel-Mel!…ohhhh!_"

Niki fell silent, sobbing and mewing. It was too much – the pleasure was too great. He couldn't take it. He twisted and writhed as much as his ever-draining energy would allow. He pushed Mel's head down ever so slightly, and his legs seemed to go numb. Electricity shot up and down his back, and he was floating in the white clouds. He moaned, ever so quietly, and a tiny trickle of saliva ran down from the side of his open mouth.

"_Ohhhhhh_…"

And then, his climax came. An exploding shadow of pleasure, so smooth, he didn't even shudder. It was so warm, so silky, so fluid…it was greater than any climax he had ever experienced. It seemed to last longer than any other, and it's wonderful tickle savored beautifully before slowly trickling away, bit by bit.  
Niki's eyes fell closed, and he sat against the wall, his shoulders weak and panting. With a flick of his tongue, he retained the saliva that had flowed out of his mouth, and he turned his head to the ceiling to catch his breath.  
When he opened his eyes, Mel was face-to-face with him, smiling as if nothing had happened.

"You liked that?", Mel asked quietly, his loving grin still in place.  
"Toldya' it was gonna be great."

Niki leaned forward and hugged Mel around his neck, and Mel wordlessly returned the embrace. Niki leaned against his lover and rested his head against his shoulder, while appreciating the warm afterglow and the gentle massage Mel was pressing against his back. He tried to bear his still-setting breath to Mel's, and sighed deeply as relaxation found it's way back inside of him.

"…Thank you…", he whispered into Mel's ear, and the Arhk nodded against his cheek.

Niki could almost feel his smile as he heard him reply;

"I love you…my beautiful Nikita…"

* * *

Sometime later, Mel and Niki were lying cuddled-up in bed. The lights had been turned off, and Niki had ignored his name being called on the intercom twice. He only pressed his face as deeply into Mel's chest and turned down his ears.

"I swear, if he calls me 'Kita' one more fucking time…", he said half-mindedly, his voice muffled by his face's position.

Mel stroked his head amusedly and pressed a kiss against the back of Nikita's head.

"Before we leave tommorow, we'll set this whole place on fire…", he said, smiling.  
"…And hope that fat bastard goes along with it."

Niki looked up and raised his ears halfways, smiling with a sort of unsobered pleasure.

"Let's not talk about him – I don't want to talk about him."

"What should we talk about?"

"Talk dirty to me."

"Oh, you…I don't think that I'd be able to start again."

"No, just talk some smut to me – you're so sexy when you do…"

"We should go to sleep."

"No, I'm still a bit horny!"

"And if you get me horny again, I'll be sitting here all night with a tent pole, and I won't be rested in the morning, and you won't be able to wake me up, and we'll miss our flight…or you'll have to go without me."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Then tell your throbbing python of love to quiet down."

Niki snickered and laughed, bringing to rest his head down on Mel's chest. He rubbed Mel's exposed tummy gently, and felt the shivers of pleasure run through his lover like ripples on water. Mel cooed hapilly and said something about 'letting you do that more often', but Niki really didn't hear him – he was too content and at peace with all around him. It didn't matter to him that his clothes were old and fraying, it didn't matter to him that his wrists were bony and his chest was unsightly flat, and it didn't matter that he had been a prostitute…for he didn't care about what his clothes looked like, he had stopped worrying about his own physical flaws, and he had already quit his life of hooking – in exchange for life with the greatest, most compassionate, and most loving person in the entire universe.  
He lifted his head and looked at the Arhk whom he was willing to spend his life with, and his smile blossomed wider and more relaxed than before. He leaned forward and pressed a surprising kiss against Mel's lips, and immediately snuggled down onto his chest, where he lay breathing softly.  
Mel said nothing, but wrapped his arms around Niki's small body, and pulled up the blanket to cover them both.

"Good night, my Nikita", he whispered to Niki, resting his arms around the Experiment's back comfortably.  
"Sleep tight, my angel…tomorrow, I'll take you to Heaven."

Niki wasn't sure what Mel meant by this, but the soothing power of the Arhk's voice left him without fear. He murred affectionately, and yawned widely before settling his head back down.

"Good night, Mel", he whispered back, as silence filled the dark room.  
"I love you…"

"I love you too, Niki…sleep tight."

They both uttered small sighs of sleepiness, and the sound of their combined breathing stemmed the only noise in the room. Mel fell asleep quite quickly; the alarm clock having been set early. Nikita turned his head to rest the other side against Mel's chest, and listened to Mel's calming heartbeat as he began to drift to sleep. To him, darkness was now light, and in the morning, he'd be waking up from a nightmare that had dominated his life for so long. He had Mel, and that was all he needed – everything else was just icing.  
He felt Mel's arms around him holding him, and paid careful attention to the warmth and love they supplied – it was the best sleep-inducing soother ever.  
He was fast asleep before he knew it.

* * *

_PANG!_

Niki shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. He didn't like it – he didn't want to leave the dream he was having. He felt a jerk in his dreamland, and tried to fight away the source by mumbling incoherently. The jerk came again, and this time, it was accompanied by a voice – Mel's voice;  
"Niki – wake up. You have to wake up now."

Niki opened his eyes – the light was still off. He hadn't heard the alarm. He looked at the clock, but his eyes were still too sleepy to determine true shapes.

"_Niki!_ Get up!"

Nikita looked up. In the darkness, he could see Mel fumbling to pull his clothes on. Had they overslept?

"…Mel?", Niki said drowsily.  
"What's going on?…"

"No time", Mel hissed, pulling away the covers and switching on the light.

Niki covered his eyes and groaned as the light stung him.

"_Get up!_", Mel hissed dangerously, and there was true urgency in his voice.  
"There's trouble – you have to get up!"


	8. Beneath A Black Sky

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 8

* * *

Nikita rolled out of bed so fast, he almost fell. With the horrible panging still ringing in his ears, and with only the dark silhouette of Mel in front of his eyes, he fumbled around urgently for his clothes on the floor. He could see Mel leaning close to the door, as if he were pressing his ear against it. Niki found his pants and pulled them on. It seemed as if Mel were already dressed.

"Mel…", Niki pleaded in a whisper, tussling with his vest.  
"What's happening?"

Niki heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. Mel was holding his gun. Niki's heart picked up even more.

"Mel, please…"

Mel's face turned towards him, and the vash glint in his eyes reinforced the sense of danger. He put his head back against the door, and listened a few seconds more before whispering his reply to Nikita;  
"I heard something…sounded like a gunshot…"

His clawed hand curled around the handle of the door and he turned the grip, and opened the door just a slit to peer outside. A shard of light pushed into the room, and Niki blinked at the sudden brightness (the lights outside were always on). Mel's face was suddenly illuminated. Niki had seen Mel wear a variety of expressions before, but never one like this – he looked dangerously frightful. Intense. His face instilled a true sense of danger. His eyes scanned the hallway through the crack, and Niki could tell that he was listening intently. He hardly dared to breathe.

"C'mon", Mel ordered, opened the door to a fuller extent, and inched out.

Niki finished pulling on his vest with shaky hands and stumbled to his feet. Mel had stepped to the left and out of sight, and Niki's spine tingled anxiously until he stuck his head out of the door and found Mel leaning against the wall, his gun raised by an angled elbow. He stared intently at the door at the end of the hall before looking back at Niki, and jerked his head to indicate to the Experiment to follow him. Niki glanced at the door at the opposite end of the hall before inching out as Mel had done, unsure of whether he should lean against the wall, too.  
Along the corridor, doors were opening and sleepy heads were being poked out, obviously wondering what the great din had been before. They would then look back at Mel holding the gun, gasp, and retreat back into their rooms.  
Niki edged closer to Mel, making meek efforts to touch him, but not daring to speak. Mel stepped away from the wall and moved quietly down the carpet-laden floor, now holding the gun steadily in front of him. Niki hoped and hoped that they would manage to reach the door undisturbed, and that it wouldn't burst open to reveal whoever had caused the gunfire before. He was shivering from head to foot, and his knees were shaking terribly at cause of the tension. What was going on?  
Mercifully, they reached the end of the hallway, and Mel resumed his against-the-wall pose. Niki did the same, but as he inched closer, Mel turned his head towards him and made a sharp gesture with his hand for him to stop.

"_Get down, get down!_", he hissed.

His face muddled by exasperation, Niki lowered himself gently, biting his lip and feeling a strange need to shout. He saw as Mel pressed the side of his head against the door, listened intently, and slowly placed a hand on the handle. Raising his gun underneath his chin, he stepped before the door and proceeded the open it inch-by-inch as he had done before. Niki leaned forward as far as he could without falling, and saw through the ark of Mel's legs that the entrance balcony seemed as deserted as the hallway. Indeed, it felt too deserted – there wasn't even the sound of the boss snoring, or the sound of a television going. There was the brief sound of a hover car passing (why were the doors open? – they were usually kept shut during the night),but besides that, nothing.  
Mel gripped his gun tighter and stepped onto the balcony. He took another few steps forward, until he was able to see down into the receptionist's area. He turned his head, looked down…and stared. His mouth dropped open slightly, and his eyes became wider than they had been before. Niki thought for sure that he was going to drop the gun, as his hands went quite limp. He continued to gaze transfixed down towards the entrance doors, until Niki slipped control of himself and blurted out in a strangled, unorthodox voice;  
"_What is it?_"

Mel seemed to snap out of his trance, and his head snapped back towards Niki. He motioned slowly for Niki to come nearer, and the Experiment, walking as lightly as though the floor was made of glass, came forward. He stepped until he was standing next to his mate, and peered down into the entry way below.  
A spray of orange blood had splattered the wall behind the reception desk, and deep-colored trickles ran down the front of the desk. In the middle of the curtain of blood behind the desk, there was a charred patch of where a laser weapon had penetrated its victim, who lay unmoving and covered in blood below the commode. It was the boss.

His face wasn't visible; it lay directly in the area delved in the shadow. His white shirt, now garnished richly in blood, was quite visible. Niki remembered the smell of burning flesh, and it didn't take him long to recognize the end-to-end blast wound on the chest of his former pimp. His fat arm lay outstretched, and his hand was bloody. Several fingers were missing: it looked as if he had brought his hand up in front of him when the shot had been fired: a weak defense against a weapon wielded by either hatred or apathy, and a sudden, bloody end to a greedy collector of money and torment.  
Niki stared at the blood-caped cadaver silently, trying to look away but finding it hard to. This was already the second dead person he had seen, but the effect was still very stemming. In a way, it was worse than the night before (Niki remembered that almost exactly twenty-four hours ago, he had shot somebody to death). He could hear Mel breathing softly and spellbound beside him, and he tried to focus his attention onto him. He was starting to feel nauseous. Despite this, he felt a deep need for a cigarette.

"Y'know…", Mel said quietly after a while, reassuring Niki that there was no such thing as sight-paralysis.  
"I've never seen anybody dead before…"

Niki couldn't help but think "_I'm one up on you_", but he still stepped closer to Mel and clutched his arm gently; he had suddenly felt very cold.

"…What're we going to do, Mel?"

The Arhk seemed to ponder his lover's whisper for a moment, and tried to overcome, in his 'dominant' role in their relationship, the creeping fear and uneasiness he was feeling.

"…We leave", he concluded quietly, and turned to Niki, so they could both avert their eyes from the grisly sight.  
"Right now. We'll get our stuff and go. If we walk…no, we'll catch a cab and go straight to the station. We can wait there until morning, and…and…"

Suddenly, Mel clutched his forehead with both hands with tensity, exasperation, and fear written all over him. Before Niki could ask what was the matter (his voice would no doubt express some of the fear and confusion he too was feeling at the abrupt sight of Mel breaking down), Mel looked down at him, and it looked as though there were tears in his eyes.

"Niki, baby…", he whispered, and Niki heard his voice break for the first time in his life.  
"I'm so, so sorry I didn't tell you, but this morning…the money…I didn't save up all the money, I got it-"

But at that moment, the balcony door that led to the right-wing hallway opened. Mel turned right around, and Niki stepped sideways to look from behind Mel.  
The door opened slowly, and intentionally quietly. A figure whose head was turned back towards its emerging hallway stepped onto the balcony. It turned its head, revealing a long, horse-like face. It was a Perentil. Behind him, two more looked up after wondering why their comrade had stopped dead in his tracks. They were all wearing black leather.  
There was a moment of silence in which Niki's blood ran cold. The five at them stared at their opposing figures, with the Perentils' faces wavering a slight of guilt, as if they had been caught doing something they knew they shouldn't be doing. Niki prayed in this moment that they were simply customers who were just leaving, but even before what happened next, he knew, beyond a doubt, that they were the ones responsible for the death of the boss. Their next actions proved that.

The Perentil in front snapped his head back towards his comrades and hissed, in a rattling voice;  
"What are you waiting for? _Shoot them!_"

Three guns appeared.  
Mel was faster. The Perentils had not seen his pistol. In an instant, it left his right hand for his left, and, while pushing Nikita back with his right arm, raised his left and fired. The Perentil in front choked momentarily and then fell forward, with a hole through his chest.  
While the two other Perentils jumped back and away from their ex-accomplice, Mel seized Niki painfully by his upper arm, spun around, and dragged him back into the left-wing hallway. He shoved Niki from the door, and the Experiment heard the click of a lock that he never knew was there. Before he could turn around, Mel was already sprinting down the hallway, dragging him by the wrist.

"_Run!_", he shouted, his voice exemplifying the verse of the situation.

Niki ran with him, but he knew there was nowhere to go. Neither of the corridors had access to the outside – only the main entrance. They were trapped.  
A few more doors had opened, and frightened heads were looking out at the two of them. Mel waved his gun wildly.

"Get inside!", he shouted at the frightened faces.  
"Lock your doors!"

Niki was violently jerked sideways, back into the room he and Mel had slept in. Mel did not lock or even close their door, but rapidly began pulling and throwing all of their belongings together.

"Take this!", he said, thrusting the makeshift-bag into Niki's arms, and immediately grabbed him by the wrist again.

Niki was pulled back outside with such force that he was almost thrown against the wall. He tried to whimper, to try and expel some portion of the fear and panic inside of him, but he couldn't. His throat was blocked, either by petrification or by Mel's influence: Mel wouldn't let him panic. Whatever the sudden show of anxiety of his had been before, it was gone; Mel had taken control of the situation, and he definitely had a plan. It did not involve Niki breaking down.  
Mel grabbed him again and began pulling him towards the locker room at the end of the hall. Niki still had no idea what Mel was planning as they skidded to a halt in front of the door, which Mel threw open forcefully. A stab of fear arched Niki's spine as a dull shot rang out from behind them. He didn't dare look back to see whether or not the Perentils had managed their way into the hallway, and was more willing than before to be pushed inside the room. Mel shut the door smartly and locked it just as the door at the end of the wall opened; the Perentils had obviously shot the lock.  
Without hesitation, Mel moved over to the opposite end of the small room, staring up. Niki assumed that he was looking for a certain locker, but another distant shot brought his attention back to the door. Another shot followed, and then a hollow thud from far off. Women screamed. More shots.  
In his fear, Niki felt an immense feeling of hatred towards his attackers.

"They're shooting the others…"

"You can't do anything for them", Mel said, his voice steely and hurried.  
"Get over here."

Niki turned from the door and hurried over to Mel, who pointed up towards the corner of the ceiling.

"See that air panel?", he asked, indicating a small, squared grill about ten feet off the ground.  
"We're going through there."

"…How? That's so high-"

"Get up on my shoulders; I'll boost you."

"But Mel, how will you-"

"_Do it!_ Leave the bag for now!"

There was hard dominance in the Arhk's voice, and Niki doubted that he would've argued even if he for some reason wanted to stay behind. As he had no such wish, he did as Mel told him: Mel crouched low against the wall and Niki climbed onto his shoulders. He stood up, and Mel did the same. Niki leaned against the wall for support, and looked up with dismay – they were still about three feet short of matching the height of the panel. Never before had Niki hated his small stature before.

"I'm gonna give you a big boost", he heard Mel say from beneath him.  
"Grab the mesh – it'll fall out, and I'll catch you. Ready?"

It wasn't a question, and a second later, Mel crouched, and then launched Nikita within equal height of the panel. He grabbed it, his fingers sliding easily between the many holes, and, as soon as he came down, so did it. The whole panel gave way and fell out, and Niki fell backwards, down to the ground.  
True to his word, Mel was there to break his fall and immediately set him back on his feet.

"Yes, yes, good, baby, good", Mel said, offering Niki the first kind words of the ordeal.

More able than before, Niki quickly climbed back onto Mel's shoulders, and was launched once more up towards the now-open panel. He caught himself on the ledge, and pulled himself head-first into the square-shaped opening. Inside, it was very dark, and only large enough for him to crawl in (he praised his short stature more than ever before). The metal beneath him _whonged_ every time he set his weight down, and it felt very cold under his hands. As a matter of fact, the very air around him was chilly; he figured all ventilation system were pretty cold.  
He turned around and looked down into the locker room, where Mel peering up at him. He seemed so far away…

"Now what?", Niki asked anxiously.

"Catch this", Mel instructed, and hurled up at him the bag that carried all their possessions.

Niki caught it lightly, and set it behind him. Mel was now pulling off his belt, and his pants looked dangerously loose without it.

"Catch my belt and pull me up", Mel instructed.

He crouched low again and sprang up, whipping his belt up at he did so. The sudden snapping of the belt against the metal surprised Niki at first, causing him to recoil instead of grabbing the belt. He heard Mel growl in response, but on the second time, he numbly reached out both hands to take firm hold of the leather line as it snapped into his palms (it did sting a bit). Immediately, he felt Mel's weight at the end other of the belt, and might have been pulled back out of the shaft if he hadn't acted on instinct: using his claws for the first time in his life, he dug the talons of his left hand into the metal wall beside him. He was surprised at how easily they cut into the bendable steel, and pleased to find that by contracting his fingers, he could root himself firmly to that place. With a bit of amusement he thought to himself;  
"_I might've even climbed up here by myself_…"

Niki's muscle-less arm ached as Mel hurriedly pulled himself into the ventilation passage, but was rewarded with momentary warmth as Mel gave him a quick embrace and ruffled the fur on his head, while single-handedly re-serting his belt.

"Good, good…now, follow me."

He crawled in front of Niki and quickly led the way forward, and Niki grabbed the bag and crawled after him. About seven feet in, they turned right, and just as Niki finished the curve, he heard the closest shot yet, heard the impact right outside of the locker room, and heard the thud of the door being bailed open. Mel obviously heard it, too, for the both of them immediately ceased moving. Niki hoped that his posterior wasn't visible around the corner.  
Either the Perentils took hint from the panel lying on the floor, or the echoing _whongs_ were still audible, but whichever the cause, the attackers were quick to follow. They did so with amazing speed: a sound of impact alerted the fact that one of them had already jumped into the air shaft.

"_Move!_", Mel shouted, and burst forward, crawling as fast as he could.

Niki crawled as fast as he could, the air around him a cacophony of reverberating _whongs_ and thuds. He could barely see in the darkness, but noticed when Mel's figure disappeared behind a new corner, some five feet ahead of him. A split second later, Mel's face was back, and his eyes shone bright with renewed horror in the darkness.

"_DUCK!_", he shouted.

Niki didn't think or hesitate. Immediately, he dropped to his stomach, just as a loud, terrible blast rocked the shaft from behind him. One of the Perentils had fired his weapon, and had missed Niki's hide by inches. The blast had been like that of a shotgun, and it left the corner shaft wall in front of him riddled with holes (Niki was surprised they weren't using laser weapons).

"_NIKI! Are you alright!_"

Niki was afraid to look up a first, but he moved his arm slowly to show that he was alive. A gun appeared from Niki's end, and Mel released a barrage of retaliating fire towards the end of the shaft segment. The Perentil quickly moved behind his corner for cover.

"_Come on!_", Mel shouted to Niki, still shooting.

Niki was terrified of moving beneath gunfire, but he crawled forward on his belly until Mel could grab him and pull him around the turn.  
In the terrifying of ordeal of being right below gunfire, Niki had left the bag of their possessions in the middle of the shaft segment.  
Mel crouched against the turn of the shaft and Niki hurriedly crawled beside him. Amidst almost being shot and pursued by someone who wanted to kill him, his nerves and stability had dwindled to almost nothing. Mel was looking nothing short of livid, and hardly anxious anymore. He didn't thrust Niki against the wall as he had before. He looked at Niki, and as he did, the hatred left his eyes.

"Did they hurt you?"

Niki shook his head, although his body was still hurting from the rough treatment of escaping. Mel looked back towards the turn, and Niki heard him snarl;  
"_They tried to shoot you_…"

And then Niki understood…or better, he understood further: he didn't hurt because Mel had wanted to hurt him while they ran, when he handled him so roughly. He didn't hurt because he didn't matter to Mel. Niki figured that the blast from the Perentil's weapon had been even closer than it had felt. Mel thought that he, Niki had died. The furious fire that Mel had returned to the Perentils had been more out of aggression than defense. Mel was furious; he had wanted to kill them.  
Nikita turned his head to Mel. He knew that it was an odd time to think about love, but…

"…Why'd they stop?"

Niki noticed it then, too – all activity seemed to have stopped. The only sound audible was Mel's hard breathing. Niki perked his ears and tried to listen harder.

"…They're doing something…", he whispered, his ears catching the unheard vibrations that ricocheted off the walls.

"What?", Mel asked.

"Something metal…", Niki answered, straining his ears further.

It certainly sounded like metal; one of the Perentils was presumably fumbling with something metallic (Niki hoped that one of them having problems with his firearm). Then, he heard a decisive _chink_ that even Mel must've heard, and one of the Perentils muttered loudly enough for them to hear;  
"_Suck on this_."

Something was thrown into the shaft between them, followed immediately by a baree of shooting, so intense that Mel didn't even dare peek around the corner to look. He placed a protective arm across Niki's chest instead, and leaned his head back against the shaft wall. Despite his ever-tight grip on his gun, Niki saw that his eyes were closed, and he was mouthing silently to seemingly nobody.  
Niki realized after a moment that he was praying.  
As the shooting finally stopped, Niki caught the final fragment of what had been a minute-long prayer – something which he couldn't understand, for he didn't know which language Mel was speaking.

There were two light thumps beyond the shaft, followed by another loud shot into the shaft: the Perentils had dropped back into the locker room and had shot into the shaft again. The door to the locker room opened, and Niki heard their fast-paced footsteps as they ran back down the hallway. His pulse steadied a bit.  
Mel slowly leaned sideways to peek around the corner. A moment later, he looked back at Niki, and he looked confused.

"…They threw something towards us; it's only a few feet away. They shot up their entire shaft-end…why?"

Niki didn't think the question had been directed at him; he was only relieved that the Perentils had left.

"…But they're gone, right?", he asked quietly, anxiously.

Mel didn't answer, but leaned forward onto his hands and knees. Giving Niki a silent order to stay behind, he crawled in a guerilla-like fashion the short distance down the shaft, to wherever the mysterious object lay. Niki dared a peek around the corner as well, and he found Mel cautiously crouched over the thrown object. The bag Niki had left lay only a short distance away, and the Experiment hoped Mel would notice and take it. But before he could point it out to Mel, the Arhk grabbed the object with haste, as threw it as hard as he could down the small, narrow shaft. It bounced off the wall once and fell out of sight around the first corner. Mel was crawling back towards Niki as fast as could, his eyes wider and more fearful than ever before.

"_MOVE!_", he shouted.  
"_MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!_"

"What was it?", Niki tried to ask, the anxiety rising in him hurriedly.  
"What was-"

"_Grenade!_", Mel shouted in return, giving Niki a forceful, persuasive push.  
"_For God's sake_, _MOVE!_"

"Mel! – what about the bag-"

"LEAVE IT! _MOVE!_"

With Mel behind him, Niki crawled down the cramped airshaft as fast as he could, with every movement measured by his breath, which was coming faster than ever before. The chilly air around him made his sweat cold, and the darkness that surrounded him succeeded in making him feel almost fully disoriented. He was crawling blindly in the dark, terrified and confused. From behind him, Mel's shouting was reverberating around the small passage, making it feel even more claustrophobic;  
"-_The motherfuckers – a timed grenade – thirty seconds left – they shot to keep us there for that minute – bastards – WOULD YOU MOVE!_"

The shafts turned into a sinister maze: Niki stopped at the first two-way fork, not knowing which way to take.

"Left!", Mel shouted from behind.  
"Go left!"

Niki did as he was told, not daring to spare time to ask Mel how he knew the way. Niki had no idea where they were headed or where they would come out, he only knew what Mel yelled out to him – _left, right, straight, right, left_…  
Niki was sure that they had already exhausted their thirty seconds when he turned a corner and caught a glimpse of a light up ahead. It was barely a sliver when he first glanced it, but it enlarged until it formed a solid square of light. Then it closed again, and it opened once more. The end of the air shaft. It must lead outside.  
Far away, Niki heard an ominous din, and the shaft around him shook; it almost rippled.

"_That was it!_", Mel shouted, then roared;  
"DON'T STOP! _MOVE!_"

And Niki did so. Mel was scrambling madly behind him, and Niki soon realized the cause. The passage around him was lighting up. The explosion was coming closer. The grenade was strong enough to force its power throughout the entire building, and the explosion was nearing them. Niki burst forward as fast as he could, his eyes fixed on the only exit in sight. The flap over the exit-panel waved and lowered with each amount of air exiting it. Seven feet from it, Niki saw it wave open and stay: the winds had reversed. His back was hot, and the shaft around him was heating up. The explosion was so close now.

"_MOOOVE!_", Mel shouted, and this time, there was a plea and distraught panic in his voice.  
"_MOVE, NIKI; FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MOOOVE!_"

He was almost there. He was five feet away, and it was getting hotter. The din was turning into a roar with frightening speed, and Niki crawled as fast as he can, his eyes watering and his teeth clenched.  
_Three feet. Two feet. One.  
_The explosion entered the final section of the shaft-system. A great wall of fire rushed at Mel and Niki. Grabbing the lower frame of the exit panel, Niki thrust himself out of the shaft and into the cold night air. Mel was right behind him. Not a second later did a massive burst of flame explode from the shaft exit, accompanied with a roar so aggressive, it might've come from a monster.

_PWOOOAAAW!_

Niki wasn't looking up. His face was pressed into whatever was beneath him, and his hands were on top of his head. Mel was on top of him, his arms wrapped tightly around his entire body. A tear managed its way past Niki's tightly-shut eyelids, and he whimpered a cry deafened by the ongoing roar overhead;  
"_Stop…please stop_…"

The heat only feet above them was almost unbearable: Niki was sure that both of them were sure to melt if they didn't burn. The roar was hurting his ears terribly, and he secretly said goodbye to life and his lover on top of him.

* * *

Then…it stopped. The roar subsided, and the heat vanished. Niki dared to open his eyes only after several seconds of silence.  
He and Mel were lying in a dumpster, some nine feet below the scarred shaft exit. It was dark again, but the explosion had made it seem as bright as daylight before. Niki silently figured that the explosion would've been even greater at the main entrance, where the fire line would've been greater. He really didn't want to think of it.  
Above him, Mel shifted and groaned. His voice assured Niki that he was alright;  
"_Oh, fuck_…god_damn_…Niki, baby, are you okay?"

"Yeah…just fine", Niki answered quietly.

Mel picked himself up and gently lifted Niki to his feat. Both of them found support against the dumpster wall (the lumpy, blue, plastic bags that filled the dumpster didn't serve good footing), with Mel keeping one arm around Nikita to keep him from falling. He looked up at the shaft exit they had just escaped through, and gave a small, wheezy whistle.

"Whoa…look at that: it blew it completely apart."

Niki looked up, and once more felt extremely lucky that he had not been on the receiving end of the explosion: the force had completely destroyed the open panel, and the wall surrounding it was cracked, broken, and blown apart. Niki looked over the side of the dumpster: rocky, broken fragments of the wall littered the surrounding area. The three-by-three-foot shaft exit was now roughly a six-by-seven-foot hole in the side of the building. Once more, he felt extremely lucky.  
Now that the danger seemed over, he felt extremely exhausted and drained. He leaned slowly against Mel's chest, and was relieved to feel the arm and hand around him to begin stroking him.

"You sure you're okay?", Mel asked softly.

"Mmm-hmm", Niki answered quietly.  
"…Mel?"

"Yeah?"

"…How'd you know how to get out?...I mean, how'd you know how to get through the air shafts and all?"

He heard Mel gave a small chuckle, and then felt his hand on his head.

"I've been here a long time, baby", Mel replied.  
"I've gone in there many times, before you came along. I memorized the place completely; all other ways led to either small exits or spinning propellers – the back of the building's loaded with them. You ever seen them?"

"No…", Niki answered.  
"…Where are we anyway?"

"Right side of the building. This alley, here – that's the empty building beside us, see?"

Niki nodded, and almost slipped on a greasy bag. Mel caught him and opted for a change of stance.

"Here – this dumpster's not big", Mel informed Niki.  
"I'll help you climb out, then you drop down – check for rocks and broken glass first, okay?"

Mel helped Niki over the side of the copper-colored trash-collector, and Niki scanned the ground for foot-hurters before dropping the five feet down to the ground below. Mel was quick to follow, and Niki noticed that his gun was back in his hand.  
A moment of awkward silence followed during which both of them quietly reflected on being chased, shot at, and almost killed by a huge explosion. It was no small experience, and required some momentary meditation. Niki reflected on this somewhat, found that it exhausted him even more, and looked up at Mel.  
Mel, who proved his love, care, and devotion for Nikita once more. Somehow, looking at and thinking about him felt much better than thinking about near-death experiences.

"Mel?", he said after a while.

"Hmm?", replied the Arhk, looking up from his own thoughts.

"…I wouldn't have made it out of there without you", Niki honestly told him.

This fact alone was fundamental at best…but Niki's eyes and voice spoke in greater volumes than his mouth could.  
Mel smiled softly, and actually seemed to blush. He shuffled his right boot-clad foot and twirled his gun absentmindedly.

"Well…I had to…couldn't leave you behind", he replied slowly, still glowing.  
"Y'know why?"

"…Why?"

"Because you're my Niki, and I love you."

And Niki knew this was true; he was still aching. If he wasn't, then he'd probably be dead…but instead, he was alive because of a lover who had gone to the limit to save him. Love may hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt.  
Niki moved forward, into Mel's arms and felt them close behind him. He nestled his exhausted head onto Mel's shoulder and laid his tired arms around him and squeezed him as much as his exhaustion would allow.

"Better watch out", Mel said with a laugh, hugging Niki.  
"You may hurt me with those awesome claws of yours…why'd you never let know about them? – they're dead useful."

"Dunno…", Niki replied quietly, talking into Mel's shoulder.  
"I never knew I could use them like that…never thought my hearing was that good either, but…oh!"

He had just realized something very unfortunate, and it seemed to break his relaxed mood. He lifted his head and looked up at Mel earnestly; there was a hint of tears in his eyes.

"Mel…", he said, his voice almost breaking.  
"Back there…in the shaft…I'm sorry, but…the bag…all our money…the tickets…"

Realizing that the entirety Mel's small fortune had been destroyed in the fire, along with any hope of getting to their destination, Niki looked as though he were about to cry.

"Don't worry about it, baby."

Mel gently squeezed Niki's arms and looked into his eyes. His stare was neither oppressive nor overly-soft, and, somehow, it managed to ease the itching of Niki's coming tears. His face was slightly resilient, but his usual, confident, understanding smile occupied all else.

"Don't you worry about thee bag; it wasn't your fault", he told Niki in unbreaking tones.  
"And don't you worry about what's gonna happen to us now…God got us out of there, and he's gonna guide us through whatever's going to come."

Niki sniffed and looked apprehensive; he didn't really know why Mel would insert God into a situation like this – it wasn't really helping.  
Mel obviously saw this reaction, and he leaned down and gave Niki a small kiss of the lips.

"Trust me", he whispered, before adding, with a smile;  
"If all else fails, we'll play the lottery."

Niki couldn't help but snort with laughter. Mel would always be Mel.  
The Arhk hugged his smaller lover against him and gave him a kiss on top of his head. Niki hugged him back, with as much love in the universe as one creature could have for another. He was as sure as ever that this was for real: he loved Mel more than anybody or anything else, and the two of them would never be parted. Never. He would die without Mel, and he was positive of that.  
He felt a small amount of disappointment when Mel broke their embrace, but relished nonetheless in Mel's arm, with stayed warmly around his side, holding him close. Niki thought about asking Mel about his momentary moment of exasperation before the chase, but decided on saving the question for later.

"Well…I know it's not what I promised", Mel said, almost apologetically.  
"It's not as nice as where we were initially going…but how about I show you those propellers on the back of the building?"

Niki would've been just fine to stand there and cuddle with Mel all night, but he nodded agreeably, and Mel led him fifteen feet to the end of the building. A small wall separated it and the building it backed, and between the wall and the ex-pouf, there was a ten-foot space. Littered among this large, open space, there lay the charred remains of roughly twenty large and small ventilation-propellers, which, until shortly, must've decorated the back of the building quite interestingly. Niki truly wished he could have seen it all when it had still been intact.

"Oops!", Mel exclaimed, as if it had been his fault.  
"I guess that explosion rocked through all of the shaftways; the building must've shot fire from all sides, huh?"

Niki nodded. He stepped in front of Mel to better observe the charred, cracked fragments of the ventilation system. Some of the blades still attached to one-another seemed to have melted.

"I tell ya, they'll never find another use for this building", Mel predicted.  
"Not without a ventilation system, at least. Installing a new one'll probably cost more money than anybody's willing to spend, so this'll probably end up being another hobo-house, y'think?"

Niki nodded and asked;  
"Do you think the police'll show up?...because of the explosion?"

"Probably", Mel replied, darkly.  
"The bastards haven't set foot in these parts in years; no wonder we were hooking so long. But they can't ignore something like this; an explosion this size'll probably…"

He trailed off. Niki had already turned around and was walking back towards him when he did, and was wondering what Mel was staring at to his left.  
He couldn't see the two figures that had sneaked up so close while they had been talking, and he didn't notice the guns that were pointed at both of them. He was still staring at lover.

"…Mel?"

There were two simultaneous clicks of guns being cocked.

"_NIKI, GET DOWN!_"

Mel rushed forward, and shoved Niki backward with all his might. There were two loud, identical shots, and a sharp, shrill scream that pierced the cool air and echoed around the building.  
Niki fell hard on his back, and immediately felt Mel land on top of him. He struggled, but knew that Mel would be faster than him to get up…but Mel didn't move.

"…Mel?", Niki whimpered anxiously.

There was no answer. Mel didn't move.

"Mel?..._Mel?_"

Still no answer.

Running footsteps neared. They were barely fifteen feet away.  
Niki looked to his side. Mel's arm lay limply across the littered ground, his gun not lying far from his hand. If Mel didn't get up and pick up the gun, both of them would die.

"Mel! – _get up!_"

Still no response.

"_Mel! They're going to kill us!_"

Mel remained as silent as before. In any other circumstance, if Mel had heard that Niki was in any kind of danger, he would have rushed to protect him, to put himself at risk before Niki would be. But this time, he did not. He didn't even stir.

"_No-!_"

With a strangled yell, Niki pushed Mel off of him. He reached, his fingers found the grip of the pistol, and sat up. The Perentils were five feet away; they had only to turn the corner-  
Niki jumped forward. Leaping around the corner offensively, he surprised his two attackers before they even had time to raise their weapons again. He fired twice, blasting one Perentil through his chest and the other in the thigh. While his companion fell down dead, the second Perentil cried out and fell back. He had hardly time to cry again before Niki shot him through his forehead.  
When he was sure that both of them were dead, Niki dropped the gun. He hurried back around the corner – Mel was obviously hurt enough that he had been unable to respond to the Perentils, and needed Niki's help. But the police would be there soon, and they'd take Mel to the hospital. Niki didn't care what it would cost to get Mel better – he'd hook to get the money, if that was what it would take.  
He turned the corner to the back of the building. He was hoping that Mel would have recovered from his bout with unconsciousness, and would be sitting up, or at least awake.  
But Mel wasn't sitting up. He was lying exactly as he had been when Niki had pushed him off of himself. His legs were apart, and while one arm lay stretched out, the other lay across his chest. His head lay almost tilted back, staring at the black sky.

"Mel?...", Niki asked quietly, stepping forward cautiously.  
"…A-Are you okay?"

It was a stupid question; there was blood on his shirt. He was hurt, and the goddamned police needed to show up and call in an ambulance.  
Niki inched forward. In what little light there was, he could see that Mel's eyes were open, as was his mouth. A small trickle of blood ran from the corner Mel's mouth, and his eyes gazed up at nothing in particular.  
He was hurt bad; where was the damn ambulance?

"Mel, the police are coming", Niki said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.  
"I can almost hear the sirens…I'm gonna go up and meet them, and tell them right away to call an ambulance to get you. They'll get you right to the hospital, and…_Mel, please s-say something_…"

Mel said nothing.  
Quietly, Niki sank to his knees. He reached out and gently shook Mel's foot. On some mornings when Mel had slept in, Niki would wake him by doing this. Mel was sensitive to stimuli like this, and would always wake up quickly to see who had been shaking him.  
This time, he didn't.  
Niki shook Mel's foot a bit faster, persistent as he was on Mel's more-stubborn mornings.  
Mel didn't even twitch.

"_Mel-!_", Niki called out, somewhat urgently now.  
"You gotta wake up…you gotta get up…"

Niki crawled forward, next to Mel's head. He put his hand on Mel's bloody chest and shook him.

"_Mel!_", he cried, his voices now choking; tears entered his eyes.  
"_I'm in trouble! – I need you, Mel! Wake up!...please!_"

But Mel didn't wake.  
Niki knew that Mel would know that this wasn't a game. Whenever Niki had needed him, Mel had been acted. He would have walked through fire for Niki, and would stop pretending to sleep if there was true peril in Niki's voice.  
But now, he did not move. Mel's eyes stared blankly up at the sky, past Niki's tearful eyes and up into the black nothing. He paid no attention to Niki's tears, and didn't seem to care that Niki was more distressed than he had ever been before. He simply lay there, unmoving and unblinking, almost as if…

"_MEL!_", Niki shouted, hitting Mel's as hard as he could in the chest.  
"I NEED YOU!...WHY WON'T YOU WAKE UP!"

Niki hit Mel again, and there was blood on his hand. He grabbed Mel and shook him as hard as could. Mel's head lolled about, uncoordinated, sometimes turning towards Niki but never looking at him.  
Niki threw himself backwards and drew his knees up to his chest, not looking. Finally, he raised his head and slowly crawled towards Mel, lying down next to him and staring at his face.

"_Mel…please_…", he sobbed, so quiet, it was almost inaudible.  
"_Don't…please don't…I need you…please…don't leave me_…"

He nudged himself right up against Mel's body and put his arms around him. He buried his face in his shoulders as he had done countless times before. He felt neither the warm, reassuring arms around nor the small, loving kiss on top of his head. Mel was cold and unmoving. Niki tried to saying something more, but his words were lost in a sob, and, instead, he lay there and cried, holding himself as close against Mel as he possibly could.

"_Please, please_", he prayed inside his head, addressing God for the first time in his life.  
"_Please, please, God, don't take him from. Let him be alive, please, please…please, God, please…don't take him away from me; I'm begging you_…"

Niki lay there, not hearing the sirens as they came closer. He lay there, crying and praying for the someone whom he loved more than all else, the someone who had saved him so many times from life, hate, and disaster. He didn't open his eyes or even move, aside from his shaking. He clung to Mel's body as tightly as he could, not even noticing as it began to rain. He prayed as hard as he could, always searching for some sign of life within his mate…but there was none. But still Niki continued to cling, continued to pray, continued to beg and plead, continued to cry.

"_Please, God…don't take my Mel from me…please, please, God, don't…please don't…please, please, please, please, please…"_


	9. Angels Fall First

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 9

* * *

Niki was numb. He sat in a hunched-over position, his head down and his hands clasped. He didn't move, stir, or shiver, despite the fact that he felt very cold. He had been sitting like this for what felt like hours, choosing this paralyzed sedativedess to the anxiety and tremor of before. He didn't know what time it was, or even exactly where he was. He didn't know where Mel was, or what was being done about the burning pouf, or about the two dead Perentils. He didn't even know what was being done about himself.

Not wanting to slip fully back into consciousness (and back to the feelings of unease), he closed his eyes and tried to recall what had happened after the sirens had closed in, around him and Mel - he remembered being pulled up, off of Mel and the ground, and not resisting because he simply didn't have the strength to. He was pushed away while someone knelt over Mel, checking his pulse. He did not see what the verdict was – he was pushed away again as more officers crowded the scene, moving around to investigate Mel and the Perentils. _Push, push, push_, until somebody held him by the shoulders and asked his name – he answered, "Nikita". The voice came again, but Niki didn't answer – his mouth didn't seem to be working. Perhaps the officer thought he was in shock, Niki, thought, he was held while the area bustled with more police activity than the red light and gangster's section of the city had seen for a long time. Niki couldn't see Mel, but he raised his head for the first time as he heard the whining approach of an ambulance. An ambulance meant hope – there was a chance. They were going to take Mel to the hospital, where –

Niki was pushed, once more, this time into the backseat of a nearby police cruiser. The officer got in the front seat, and informed Niki that he was going to take him to the police station. Niki wanted to ask if Mel was going to be alright, but his mouth still didn't seem to be working; all he managed were a few inaudible mutters and whimpers that the officer, in his dark uniform and midcap, didn't even seem to hear. He started up the cruiser, and Niki turned to look out the window - the ambulance, a floating, curved rectangular medical unit, cruised past the window just as the cruiser that Niki was in lifted, and he managed to see medics stepping out of it before it fell too far out of sight, and soon, even the menagerie of blinking and spinning lights disappeared in the darkness as the cruiser sped away.  
Niki didn't say a word. He didn't try to see or even really pay attention in which direction they were going – the cruiser lifted up and gained altitude, leaving behind the neon signs and deserted buildings before passing into the districts that were less mangled by corruption and poverty. The lights were of giant homesteads: skyscrapers, too tall to see properly, but with small, individual lights that speckled all sides of these clean, colossal structures that stretched in numbers too great to count. The cruiser entered light traffic, but made its steady way through high streets and boulevards.

Kilometers passed, until the cruiser pulled up to a looming structure, not unlike the rest of the buildings. It was impossible to tell what color or even exactly what it looked like in the darkness, but Niki didn't care: he was hugging himself in the backseat, his head down as the cruiser pulled into a submerged garage. It steered into a parking space among identical cruisers, and slowly lowered itself to the ground as the cruise-control was deactivated. The officer stepped out, and slid Niki's door open to usher him out. Under fluorescent lights, Niki was lead to an elevator at the end of the garage, and was then lifted up, with the officer, to the receptionary level.  
A length of dark, metal desk spanned through the width of the long room, separating a long line of wall-inserted seats from the designated police-only area behind the counter. The entire place was almost empty now – only a few uniformed officers, all of the same reptilian species, sat behind the glass dash of the desk, all of them busy as they spoke into transmitters and communicators – one of them typed furiously at a computer. Niki suspected that the majority of the force was out in response to the explosion. He would've hoped, in other circumstances, that there was more to the city police-force than just what he had seen and what he saw now…  
The station, much like the rest of the planet, seemed substandard in its presence, in comparison to the futuristic example that the inner planets ungraciously placed: sleek, rounded surfaces, silent, efficient air-conditioning, and, overall, the latest technology was absent in the planet-wide setting, and painfully obvious in the police station - the floor was tile, fiberglass was used for the dash instead of enforced neoplastic, and the counter (if one didn't know better) may have been out of wood.

Niki gave no knowledge to any of this as he was lead down the counter and through a panel that opened. He walked in whichever direction he was ferried, was treated to a nausea-inducing elevator experience, walked some more, and was finally asked to sit. He heard a door close, and suspected he was in a separate room. He raised his head only to see where he was expected to take place: a chair that was taller than he was. This seemed to dawn on the officer as well; he hesitated for a moment, and then actually lifted Niki into the seat, the Experiment giving no resistance, protest, or otherwise response.

The officer asked him questions that Niki replied to dully – who was he, what was he doing there, was the gun his? He didn't lie…he simply made up whatever crawled over the landscape of his numb, icy mind. He didn't care whether or not his answers received merit from the officer, who simply sat and nodded.  
A while of this passed before the officer's communicator crackled to life and ordered him somewhere. The officer replied and stood up, telling the Experiment not to move until he returned before he left through the door, closing it behind him. Throughout all of this time, Nikita hadn't even seen his face.  
Even though he wouldn't have thought of it that way, Niki did as what he had been told for quite a long while. Occupied with worry and uncertainty, Niki sat still and continued to do so even when he began to feel cold, even when a twinge of discomfort penetrated his numb mind to alert him that his behind was becoming quite sore.  
A beeping sound finally moved him to raise his head. He had to blink a few times to clear his vision – his eyes were a bit moist…

A large communications-apparatus (reminiscent of a primitive radio) that sat upon the officer's desk was beeping, as a red light on its hull blinked along with the beeps. It continued for a moment, before a scratchy, cackled voice broke into audio, addressing the officer that wasn't there;  
"_Unit member Opteno, report to the main floor, repeat, report to the main floor_."

Surely the order would be repeated in a mere matter of time, Niki thought. Then, perhaps, if there still was no answer, someone may come up to search for the absent officer in his cubicle, and would find Niki. Then, assuming that nobody would know who he was (and Niki figured this with a strong likelihood), the questioning would start again, and he would have to lie again, and they might find out what he was, and…  
Niki hated himself immediately for putting his cover above the delay that might be caused before finding out about Mel's condition, but the objective was still essentially the same: he had to get out of the police station. What he would do then, he wasn't sure – if necessary, he'd seek out the hospital, where Mel would have to be…unless…

Niki drove the thought from his mind and slid off the chair. He moved to the door without looking around the room any further, and stepped over the threshold onto a sleek tile floor, which spanned between rows of separate cubicles like a gridwork. He found his way down the cubicles and to the elevator with only one turn. According to the lined set of lights above the frame, he had to call the elevator three floors up from the main level. Luckily, the rounded door swiveled open to reveal the chamber empty, and Niki stepped inside and had to jump up to reach the panel. The door slid closed, and Niki, who had only experienced elevator-rides occasionally and a short while ago, managed to feel slightly nauseated as the compartment sank down three long levels.  
Niki was glad when the door finally opened without a _bling_ – the elevator was silent enough that the two officers in conversation, barely fifty feet away, weren't diverted from their talking. Knowing it best to remain hidden, Niki eased out of the elevator and around a nearby corner, pressing his back against the wall. His thoughts of getting around the pair were suddenly interrupted as he caught on to their conversation. Inching as close to the edge of the corner as he could, he dared a peek around the edge at the two uniformed policemen – a tall, plow-faced Erephan and an orange, dinosaur-like Tronodonian – as they discussed a scene all too familiar-sounding to Niki.

"So, how many dead?", the shorter Tronodonian was asking his comrade, holding a cup in his clawed hand.

"When I got off the scene, we had almost ten confirmed bodies", the Erephan replied with a small, tragic sigh as he leaned on the long main desk (which was now quite empty).  
"We've got almost the whole force down there, trying to handle the situation, but we've only been able to get into part of the building…not sure if it's at all safe to go in there at all yet, much less into the rooms that were hit hardest by the explosion, y'know?"

"Yeah, I figure", the orange lizard-like answered with a nod, and sipped at his drink.  
"Whaddaya figure it woulda have taken to blow the entire place to Hell like that?"

"We'll probably find out once we get in further…", the tall one answered, and shuddered.  
"…but I really wouldn't want to be among those going back in there."

"Why?", the Tronodonian asked.

"…You realize that the place was a prostitution pad?", the Erephan asked in return, his voice somewhat hushed.  
"Well…whoever lit that fuse didn't bother on alerting the, uh, 'residents' to get out…"

"Bodies?"

"Yeah…horrible. Burnt to crisps."

"Shouldn't they've been completely destroyed by an explosion that strong?"

"Well, obviously not…that was the most awful sight I've ever seen in my life; God save them. I won't be able to sleep for weeks…"

"What about those three out on the side of the building?...those two Perentils, and that odd-lookin' fella that all been shot?"

Niki braced himself against the wall as he heard this being asked, but didn't make a sound. He nearly dug his claws into the wall behind him as he inched as close to the edge of the corner as he could, hoping against hope that…

"Oh, yeah…well, they were loading them up in the ambulances when I first got there so I don't really know why they were out there, or why a firearm was involved. Nobody really understands the big picture yet."

"Yeah, yeah, but those three…were they dead, or what?"

"Yes…I'm afraid so."

Niki felt himself lose grip of his body. He slid soundlessly down the wall as his legs slid forward as if on slow ice, and was left sitting on the floor, staring up in a way that suggested determination…but was more likely to be stunt or shock.  
How could it be? How could Mel be…? How would he know – how would the police officer know? He was just arriving – he wouldn't know if Mel was dead or not. He couldn't know for sure…he wasn't right. He couldn't be right. It just wasn't possible…  
Despite his near-paralyzed condition, Niki could still hear the two officers talking, not knowing who was overhearing them so close by.

"Damn…", the Trondonian's voice was saying, actually sounding impressed, amidst the tragedy.  
"A whole whore house blown clean up, and three extra shot-ups in the side-alley…what the fuck was goin' on there ya think?"

"My guess is as good as yours", the Erephan replied, shrugging his massive shoulders.  
"Still, I think we can rule out the possibility of an accident…a building might blow up by itself, but three people dead from gunshots next to it is too much to cover with an energy leak. This was definitely planned…at least part of it."

"Yeah, well…"

Niki heard a crumpling sound as the Trondonian crushed his cup in his hand and came dangerously close to the corner as he moved to discard it in a trash can.

"Where the Hell's Opteno?", he faintly heard him say as the officer returned to the long desk.  
"I've called him twice now; he needs to get his lazy ass down here."

"Well, if you've called him twice, he's probably not here", the deep voice of the Erephan replied.  
"He might've been called down to the site – a cruiser was just leaving as I arrived."

"I didn't see him leave."

"You were probably using the bathroom."

"Yeah, well…what are you waitin' for, anyway? You've filled out the update-sheet you were supposed to, so what's keepin' ya around here?"

"Well…see, the thing is, I got a call from the captain – he'd gotten a call from the hospital, saying that they couldn't identify one of the victims that was shot. No trace whatsoever – not even the guy's DNA is registered. I figured we'd be able to find him if we had the updated Intergalactic search to our disposal, but…our morgues are all full, and the captain said we can't keep the body anywhere else, and the hospital and the captain both agree that…well, we don't have room to have a body laying around, so…"

"…They're gonna get rid of it?"

"…Yeah…I'm afraid so. Damn this warped planet and all of our systems and limitations…we're gonna keep a file on him open, and keep a notice of his description circulated, in case anybody wants to…uh…collect what's left of him after the incineration."

"They're gonna burn him up? Just like that?"

"Yes…and a vehicle carrying his body will be by any minute now, and I'm to identify and sign the go-ahead for the body to be incinerated."

"But you said you never really even saw the guy!"

"I know…but I was at the scene, so I guess they figure I'm as good as anyone else to sign the sheet."

"_Daaamn_…well, as ya said, damn this backward little planet and all our systems and limitations."

"I know, I know…"

Concealed from their eyes, Niki sat motionless behind the corner, while tears rolled soundlessly down his face.  
It couldn't be Mel. When the vehicle that carried the body showed up, it wouldn't be Mel being ferried to incineration. How could they do such a thing – burn a body without even knowing who it was? Niki desperately tried to think of a time that Mel had clearly identified himself – where he was from, what his full name was…  
But he couldn't remember. Try as he might, despite all urgency, Niki couldn't remember a single time that he had been told a hint of official status concerning Mel. He didn't even know if his real name even was Mel! Mel had never talked or said anything about his past or whatever life he had had before…even Niki wouldn't be able to tell the police anything of official importance.  
Tears continued to flow freely from Niki's eyes, although now, deeper emotion was gripping his heart. He felt his lip begin to tremble, felt his mouth stretch into that crooked, crying frown, and he felt a sob coming. He knew that he couldn't cry now; he would definitely be heard by the police officers. He bit his tongue and tried to force his lips shut, refraining from emitting the sob that was so close to escaping from him.

A crackling emission from a communicator on the long counter deterred the officers from their conversation, and the Trondonian's voice replied to the incoming message;  
"Head department here – please repeat."

"_Mortuary vehicle here for identification of a body – waiting at front_", a barely-decipherable voice replied, mired with the cackling of the pre-modern communicator.

"Copy – we're comin' out", the Tronodonian confirmed, and with a nod to the Erephan, headed towards the front exit, unaware that they were being followed by a small, peach-furred something that crawled over the counter and underneath the row of wall-mounted seats in silent pursuit.

Night was still prominent outside the walls of the towering police station, with a row of yellowish-orange headlights situated along the protruding entrance-frame illuminating a large, covered cruiser standing in front of the tall main doors. The vehicle was dark, wide, and tall; almost truck-like in appearance, the cockpit lay in front of a walled deck that was covered with a fluttery canvas and tied down with steel rope (in an already-out-of-date world, this vehicle definitely looked the most primitive). Standing next to it was a six-foot Luik – a humanoid, mustard-skinned character in a grey uniform, with a simple face and a line of flat, heretically-blonde hair that stretched from his slanted forehead to the curving back of his cranium. His light eyes made him look quite harmless, and he was fiddling with what appeared to be a watch when the two police officers pushed through thee main doors. The Luik looked up and stuffed his appliance into the pocket of his pants, taking a few steps towards the approaching officers.

"The garage ain't good enough for ya?", the advancing Trondonian asked seedily as he and the Erephan neared the covered cruiser.

The Luik frowned.

"It wasn't specified where I should go – there was no parking space, and I figured the garage was off-limits."

"Don't mind him", the Erephan said calmly, and stepped in front of his partner, towering over both of the other figures.  
"May I see the body?"

The Luik nodded and directed him over too the back of the truck, where he unfastened the steel rope and slid back the canvas, so the officer could peer inside and pretend to recognize the individual beneath the deck.

"One major, explosive incision by a Shakrieter-shell, which broke through the rib cage, causing major shock and lacerating the heart and left lung", the Luik recited in procedure.  
"Death was probably instantaneous. Three other notable hits likewise by Shakrieter shrapnel caused damage and lacerations to the left shoulder, forearm, and kidneys. Time of death is presumed between the hours of 001200 and 001205. Subject is species Arhkawan Sapiens, aged between twenty and twenty-eight. Sex – male. No notable marks, tattoos, or piercings on body. Presumably has engaged in prostitution. Body to be sent to Psonmik Mortuary for immediate incineration."

He finished the post-mortem recital and leaned over the canvas to give the body a glance and sigh in sympathy before pulling back the covering.

"The other two were Perentils – the hospital identified them immediately", he said, and added with another sigh;  
"Funerals for them (after the questioning of relatives regarding the situation) and an anonymous cremation for this poor fellow."

"Yeah, yeah, sad for the hooker", the less-sympathetic Trondonian said impatiently.  
"What were they all doing there?"

The Luik gave the officer a look of distaste, either for the indifference about the Arhk's death, or for something he felt was pretty obvious;  
"I just work in the mortuary – how am I supposed to know?...but what does the presence of any two Perentils with guns indicate?"

"Mob-work?", the Trondonian asked.

"Well, don't think I'm saying anything official – I just work at the mortuary", the Luik said irkilly, before turning to look at the Erephan.  
"You're officer Mofftan, right?"

"That's right", the Erephan said, glancing at the name-tag on the chest of his own uniform.

"I need you to sign a paper of responsibility", the Luik said, moving back over to the cockpit, where he opened a door and reached in to grab a clipboard.

He handed it with a pen to officer Mofftan, who took it but didn't sign. He eyed it skeptically before looking down at the Luik with a frown.

"Why do I have to sign anything? – I thought I was just to identify the body. I can't take responsibility for anything the captain ordered to be done."

"It's just a general layout; I typed it myself", the Luik replied.  
"You sign it as a member and representative of the police department, but all responsibility is that of the captain of police – personally, I would've had him sign it, but orders are orders: it should be done as soon as possible."

With this explanation, officer Mofftan signed where he should and handed it back to the Luik, who threw it back into the cockpit and climbed in after it, closing the door behind him. Officer Mofftan and the Trondonian (whose name was officer Ryfo) turned back towards the main doors of the police station as the mortuary cruiser behind them started with a loud hum and lifted up off of the ground. It moved away from the police station, picking up a bit of speed but staying at road-level, with the Luik at the controls not knowing that a certain small Experiment had grabbed ahold before he left, and was now keeping himself desperately clawed to the fluttering canvas.

* * *

The mortuary, much like the red light and gambling sections of the city's sector, lay in a more impoverished part of the area than the police station, though unlike the afore-mentioned places, this run-down, dark, and glum area yielded no sexual or alcoholic reprieve from the deadening feeling of hopelessness. Here, the buildings were smaller, and often damaged or abandoned. The mortuary was likewise a small and squared structure, though it literally held more depth than its sad, skeletonic neighbors – much of its working space was located underground.  
The Luik guided his obtuse caravan through the grimy and drudged streets of the structural graveyard, the headlights of his low-riding vehicle supplying the greatest amount of light among the area. He slowed down as his destinated building came into sight – the twenty-five-foot-tall structure, plaqued with a large, non-neon sign that read "Psonmik Mortuary", footed with a smaller "_rates depending on species_".  
The rate for the unfortunate Arhk in the back of his cruiser, the Luik noted, wouldn't be great, but would be paid for by the police department, or the hospital, or the government (if there even was one present, which he doubted), or whoever. Then again, it didn't really matter - the Luik would leave the management over to his superior; his job was only to reduce this body.

He pulled his cruiser up along the designated driveway in front of the mortuary and lowered it until the anti-gravity drive was completely deactivated; his ship settled onto the ground and the Luik stepped outside, carrying the pad signed by the Erephan officer Mofftan as he moved around to the back of his ship. He pulled back the canvas from the body and took a small remote from his pocket. He clicked it, and the body, supported by a stretcher and covered to the face with a sheet, lifted out of the back of the cruiser and lowered down to a height of five feet off of the ground, hovering seamlessly. The Luik pushed back the canvas over the holding-area of his cruiser, reverently pulled the sheet up further to cover the Arhk's face, and turned towards the mortuary building, clicking the remote again so the stretcher followed him as he walked.

The doors were tall enough to accommodate most species, and laid with glass inside metal frames. They were quite heavy, and the Luik had to hold the doors open for the floating stretcher to glide through. When he released the doors, they fell closed slowly, but eventually fell into place with a resounding bang that echoed throughout the empty building, going down, down, _down_…  
It was dark, but the Luik didn't need light to navigate – he knew his place of work: to the right was a room that held an assortment of caskets of many sizes and a collection of urns, with prices ranging from cheap to mid-range. To the left was a set of stairs that moved in a half-X up to a larger room on the second floor, where, with a small fee, eulogies and post-burial/cremation 'parties' may be held. Straight ahead, sloping down into the darkness, was a wide path that lead to the incinerator. The mere thought of traversing down such a mine-like tunnel might send chills down the spines and vertebrates of species much greater than the Luik, but he had no problem with dark, dim places – it all went with the job of being a mortuary worker. Still, he flicked a switch on the wall that sent a thin row of illuminating lights down the ceiling of the sloping passageway. Giving a glance to the covered body on the stretcher, he put a hand on the edge of it, as if reassuring the deceased that there was nothing and nobody to fear in the darkness. Once more, he began to lead it forward, then downward – down into the dimly-lit passageway towards the incinerator.

The Luik stopped a second later. He turned and looked up the passageway, towards the door which was almost out of sight. His eyes narrowed in the dark and he stood quietly, listening; he could have sworn that he had heard something…something quiet, but still prominent in the near-silence. Was it the door? It didn't slam, but…  
The Luik gazed up the passage a moment longer before turning back downwards and continuing on his path. Deciding that he must've (might've) imagined the sound, he tried to focus on the path and the work ahead, reminding himself that the occasional imagined sound or feeling the presence of something that wasn't really there wasn't uncommon if you worked in a mortuary home, even if you weren't paranoid, or believed in ghosts, or that the dead would rise up and stalk you.

He fought the feeling all the way down the wide, ill-lit passageway, glancing at the shadows on smooth, paved walls to reassure himself that he was truly alone in the passageway.  
Finally, after several hundred feet, the passage leveled out somewhat abruptly in front of a large, re-enforced metal wall that coved the entire end of the passage. Only a small door set into the bottom center of the wall allowed access into whatever was beyond. This was all security precaution – keep the incinerator (which lay behind this door) underground and behind a metal door, just in case something went awry. The Luik pushed and undid the protective levers that kept the door locked and pulled open the heavy metal door, leading the stretcher inside before him.  
He had to flip another light switch to illuminate the room, which was, undoubtedly, the biggest in the entire mortuary: a thirty-foot ceiling lay over a wide, mostly-empty space that lay in front of a massive metal incinerator that occupied the entire opposing wall of the room. An iron table was set into the center of the room, and was big enough to shelf most types of species. The Luik steered the stretcher holding the body alongside this table, and, with professional reverence, moved the body from the floating device onto the table, the sheet still covering the body and features of the deceased.

The Luik raised his head after doing this, turning towards the door that he had entered through. There was no reason to do otherwise, but he had left the door unlocked and open on purpose. He just wanted to see…to clear his suspicion…  
He knew it was silly, but he wanted to be sure. Turning from the body, he used the remote to direct the stretcher against the wall and walked across the room to the east side, opened another small door, and disappeared down a narrow set of stairs.

A hang-on ride through the deadened streets of the city, more sneaking and hiding than he thought he could've done, and a traverse down a dark tunnel had tested him. He was cold, wet with sweat, and almost completely at the end of his mental duress…but he was finally alone. The Luik had left the room, and he was alone; (well…in a way) now, he had his chance.  
His strength almost completely exhausted, Nikita managed the push open the already-leaned door to accommodate himself over the threshold. He stopped to lean against the metal barrier, taking in the awesome sight of the room and catching his breath at the same time. His chest was aching with the cold air he had inhaled and the stress induced by pushing open two heavy doors. Niki was sure that his lungs were close to popping, but…  
He raised his head from his frantic breathing, and his eyes fixed on the erected table, upon which lay the shrouded figure. Niki's breathing slowed. Slowly, still clutching an arm across his chest, he began taking steps towards the table. Each step on the dusty, paved floor felt like a mile across a dessert, with the table acting as some ominous obelisk in the distance.

Niki's eyes were brimming. As hard and as cruelly demanding as it was in such a short amount of time, he had finally accepted and come to believe that Mel was gone…but accepting it was nothing compared to seeing it – seeing him. Seeing Mel staring up at the sky, unmoving and mute was one thing, during a time of fear and desperation…seeing him now, whatever he may look like, after accepting what all the evidence was pointing to, was…unspeakable. Unthinkable. _Unbearable_…  
Niki took another step towards the table, his eyes on the covered form lying atop it. His eyes were blurred with tears, but the still-setting cover shone through his miraged vision like nothing else.  
He stood in front of the table now, looking up at the platform, some two feet above him. He looked to his left, and found an adjustable stepladder standing against the wall.

His journey towards it seemed quicker than the one to the table – he had to push it to move it, and this took longer. Had he been in any other frame of mind, he would've worried about the mortuary worker, who was surely soon to return, but now, he only cared about his destination – the only thing in the world.  
The stepladder finally met the edge of the table with a small _clinging_ noise, and Niki pushed once more to make contact with the second rail.  
_Cling_ – it was set.  
Niki stepped around to face the rungs. He gripped each of the parallel handrails with a tenacity and resolution that suggested he was about to climb a mountain. He had to nearly force himself to raise his right foot onto the first rung of the ladder, and when he raised his second foot onto the ladder, it was as if he had left the universe behind him – he was standing groundless, in space, with the only important thing in all of creation his destination, only a few feet above him. He tensed his grip on the rail and took a step higher. When he brought his other foot up, he placed it on the same rung as the other, like a child climbing. Breathing in with hard breaths, he raised himself another step up, and his foot followed. Then another. The whiteness of the sheet that covered the body rose up before him like a looming hill, and Niki felt his heart skip. Another step brought him head-level with the table where the sheet-covered cadaver lay, unmoving and motionless. Niki's throat seemed to dry up without reason, and he swallowed hard, only to find his mouth dry as well. It didn't matter. Another step. Higher.

A final step brought him to the top of the ladder, and he stood with the table creating a meridian at his waist. Niki's eyes were streaming from what could've easily have been the strength needed to traverse this far, but was actually the cause of the deep, numbly-desperate sadness that had crept in him, now that he had come this far. The undefined contours of the covered body left no doubt to who lay beneath the sheet, even though Niki had never actually seen beneath it. Now more than ever, the reality of his loss was sinking in, that something…someone, that was so close, so near to him…was actually so far away.  
A sob finally escaped him. Niki brought his hands to his mouth, for a moment thinking to stop the flow of emotion…but a second later, he wondered why, for what reason…and slowly brought a hand down to the body.  
His hand stopped above the covered face, as though it had met a barrier of some sort. He hesitated, and brought his hand back.

"_Why?_", Niki asked himself quietly, in a whispering thought.  
"_Have I really come all this way…just to say good-bye?_"

Niki lowered his hand once more, and it brushed against the covered face of the one who could only be his loved one. He stifled another sob, and slowly made to pull back the sheet.  
Suddenly, he felt a hand grab his shoulder hard, and his heart seemed to utter a scream that his mouth couldn't emit. He was spun around with such force that he was almost thrown off of the ladder. When he managed to grip both of the handrails once more, he was looking into the angry, suddenly-dark eyes of the Luik that had brought in the body.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing here!", he demanded, in a voice full of surprising menace.  
"This is a mortuary, not a goddamn nightclub! What do you think you're doing!"

Niki's throat was blocked, with the combined lumps of this sudden action and the sadness of just a few moments ago. He was caught against the table and the spiteful Luik, who obviously found his presence less-than-welcome in the dark incinerator-room. He wasn't sure if he had been able to clearly explain himself even if he was in a clear state of mind, much less if he was as scared as he was now. He would've cried out, hadn't his throat seemed blocked.

"Well!", the Luik shouted, still cornering the frightened Experiment.  
"Explain yourself! Say something!"

Niki managed to open his mouth; he tried to say something intelligent, but what came out of his mouth was far from tangible.

"I-I-I just-just w-wanted…just wanted…I…"

The Luik's face didn't change – it showed no sympathy or compassion; only anger and resentment for the creature who had infiltrated this otherwise-empty place.  
Faced with such animosity, with his nerves completely shot by now, and not knowing what else to do, Niki did the only thing left to him – he began to cry. He wouldn't have been able to hold back if he had wanted to, and now, for the first time of the night, he completely broke down. His legs giving way, he sank down onto the top of the ladder, unmasked tears of exasperation, fear, and sadness pouring down his face into his open mouth, from which escaped not just one sob, but a long, drawn-out, whimpering cry that shook his entire body uncontrollably.  
The Luik, quite surprised at this, withdrew his hand and almost took a step backwards. He was intending to surprise and scare whoever he knew had followed him into the basement, and he was very irritated at the trespassing…but to find this strange, damp, little creature crying in front of him wasn't something that he had counted on happening.

"…Hey", he said, in a voice much lower than before.  
"Hey…what's wrong? What's wrong with you?...what are you doing here?"

He got no answer, for the little guy seemed beyond answering. He was shaking so bad, he seemed about to fall off of his perch on the ladder…at which elevation, he was barely to match the height of his finder.  
Not knowing what else to do, the Luik reached out cautiously, and put gentle hand upon his shoulder, in an attempt to both steady his shaking and to calm his crying.

"Hey…I didn't mean to scare you that bad", he said, trying hard to erase the tone he had used before.  
"C'mon, don't cry…just tell me what you're doing here, alright?"

The creature sniffed between sobs and raised his head only enough to catch the eyes of the Luik. A deep, shuddering breath brought him a moment's calm, in which he managed to choke out but a few words;  
"_I…I just wanted to…my…my…I just wanted to_…"

He motioned behind him, at the table on which lay the sheet-covered body of the dead Arhk, before putting his head back down to resume his crying.  
The Luik looked beyond the Experiment at the covered body, and a moment's calculation brought the revelation - yes, he understood.

"I see…I see", he said softly, and gently rubbed the creature's shoulder.  
"Was he…a friend of yours?"

The creature paused between his crying: he raised his head, and actually seemed to ponder the question, which he eventually answered with a nod.

"Listen", the Luik continued.  
"Do you know…anything that might help with his identification?"

The creature seemed to think this question through as well, but this time, he answered with a sniffle and a shake of his head.

"C'mon – you don't know anything that might help to get him identified?"

Another shake of the head.

"Do you know where he lived?"

A pause…and another shake of the head.

"Does he have any family?"

A shrug of the shoulders.

"C'mon", the Luik pressed, starting to feel a hint of irritation with the lack of response.  
"I thought you said he was your friend – who was he? What's his name, at least?"

Once more the creature paused and seemed to think. He raised his head higher than before to meet the eyes of the Luik fully. It seemed with tremendous resolve that he spoke, and there was a definite tone of reverence in his voice;  
"His name was Mel…and he was my lover."

He then lowered his head once more, and slowly resumed crying.  
The Luik took all of this in, then stood motionless, trying to find the best way to react to such a statement. Yes, now he understood the underlined reason for the effort and trepidation that this someone had gone through to follow him to the mortuary…but how to respond to a situation of such increased depth? He realized that he could do little or nothing to soothe the situation for this poor little guy; having worked in this distinct profession for some time, he knew all too well that there were few words that could console the grieving family, friends, or lovers of the deceased…be they hetero or homosexual.  
Once more, he placed a soft hand onto the small, weeping stranger, and gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

"I understand…I understand…", he said quietly, for this was the one solid phrase in the business.

The little guy said nothing, and only sat and cried some more. The Luik granted him this moment; not removing his hand, and throwing a time-killing glance at the massive incinerator, and pondering if it would still to be used that night.  
Two minutes of crying didn't so much seem to calm the creature down, as it did to exhaust him. He sat with tear-stained eyes, sobbing dryly, as though his tears were running out. After two minutes of crying and shaking, he wiped his large, bulbous nose and gave a hopeless shake of his head, clearly not knowing what to do. The Luik figured that now was the best time to attempt to direct the situation.  
He knelt down slightly to be at head-level with the creature, and waited until their eyes met (momentarily) to speak to him.

"This is important", he told the tan-colored creature quietly.  
"If he can't be identified, then I have to cremate him tonight. Isn't there anybody you know that might help identify him?"

The creature sat still and seemed to ponder this once more – with the last-chance stipulation going, he seemed more desperate to come up with a name or identity that may bring official light to his lover's profile…but, as before, he seemed to come up blank, and his shoulders slumped and he shook his head, although defeated.

"No…", he said, in barely more than a whisper.  
"No one…"

"What about you?", the Luik asked, seemingly just as determined.  
"You're his…well, his lover…don't you have anything, or know of anything, that might help with his identification?"

There was another indication of drastic mind-searching, but again, the creature came up short.

"No…", he said again, with a shake in his voice.  
"No…there's nothing…I have nothing…anything that might…the fire…"

He broke off, and the Luik nodded.

"I'm sure he was given a thorough search", he said, even though he didn't quite believe himself.  
"The mandates surely gave it an effort when he didn't turn up on the basic scan – they probably checked him for cornea-ID, DNA, even fingerprints…if he were registered in any system from here to the Galactic Central, he would've been identified, but…"

He broke off, realizing this was of little comfort.  
He himself had given thought to how strange it was that this Arhk, who lived on this planet, wasn't registered in any data-bank as anybody else would be. He had no idea where the native planet of Arhks was, and hoped that someone in charge of the search had had the sense to check with it before they signed the body for incineration. There were several theories that might explain this lack of profile, illegal immigration and underworld action seeming the most plausible. Given that the Arhk had been killed by a pouf gave heavy suggestion that he had been a prostitute, and the trafficking business consumed many that had stowed away to a planet, without money or connections…  
It seemed probable, but given the circumstances, the Luik thought it best not to ask the small stranger whether or not his theory was accurate.  
Instead, he straightened up and looked down at the quivering, down-headed somebody, in silent resignation to what his orders obligated him to do.

"So…there's absolutely nobody who could identify him?", he asked for the final time.

The creature shook his head, this time without any type of pause or consideration – he seemed completely defeated.

"Okay…", the Luik said, with a small nod.  
"If that's the case, then…I'm afraid that I'm going to have to cremate him."

The creature neither said nor did anything – he only continued to sit there, staring downwards in gloom.

"…Do you want some time alone with him before…?"

Niki looked up at the Luik, then behind him at the covered body.  
One part of himself was asking if it was worth to spend time with somebody who couldn't even see or hear you, or even know you were there; somebody that was dead…but the other side of him knew it was only a wall that was suggesting this: a wall of suggested indifference, building subconsciously in response to another notion that had been creeping up inside of him: he was alone, now, all alone…  
But this was no simple dead somebody…it was his Mel.  
He looked back at the Luik…and gave a small nod, which the Luik returned before checking a watch on his wrist.

"…I'm on a schedule…", he said, as if ashamed about it.  
"…before I have to fill out a report that it's been done. There's not much time, but…"

He trailed off, and looked to the metal wall in which sat the door.

"…I'll go and get an urn", he said.  
"…I can…I'll be back in five minutes, okay?"

Niki nodded, and the Luik did as well. He moved over to the door and gripped the handle, prying it open with a bit of difficulty, but looked back at the creature. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but, seemingly fearing an echo, he slid through the door and let it fall closed behind him.

Niki watched the door for a while, as though waiting for all vibrations to die before he slowly pulled himself to his feet and turned to face the covered body lying before him. He sniffed once more, feeling himself oddly dry, as though he wouldn't be able to cry anymore. He reached out slowly and took the edge of the white sheet between his fingers, and a moment later, he pulled it back slowly.  
Mel's face showed no hint of the terror that had been etched into his features earlier that night. As a matter of fact, his closed eyes and lightly-set lips were quite the essence of serenity – he looked as though he were sleeping. His hair, despite not set in its usually-styled sharpness, was straight and unruffled. He was clean, seemingly unmarked, and the generic tunic that he wore (visible on his exposed shoulders) bore no sign of bloodshed. To a casual eye, there was no trace of the terror that had taken place the night before.  
Niki stood above his lover, with sad eyes that were longing to share this sort of serenity, offered only by his lover's state. He withdrew his hand, and after a moment, emitted a small sigh.

"So…is this how it ends?", he asked Mel, and received no answer.

Feigning detachment and indifference hurt him at once. He reached out again and gently moved his hand across Mel's straight hair and grey garment.

"…Look what they've done with you", he said quietly, plucking at the cheap material.  
"…Taken your clothes and messed up your hair…wouldn't you be upset…"

Once more, there was no answer, and Niki simply rested his hand on the edge of the table.

"Mel…what am I going to do now?", he asked his mate's body, allowing his thoughts emittance.  
"Ever since I came here, you've been there for me when I needed help, when I needed someone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on…or someone to take care of me…what am I going to do if you're not with me?"

He hung his head and shook it, emitting a hollow laugh that didn't quite manage to emulate his emotions.

"…It takes somebody trying to rape me to make me blurt out how much I loved you, just so you can go and get yourself killed a day later; what a fine, illustrious relationship we had, huh?"

Mel's silence may have mirrored his immediate reaction if Niki had presented him with the same question had he been still alive. Niki tried to laugh again, but it only came out as a dry cough from his parched throat. Groaning, he sank to his knees and folded his arms to rest his head on the edge of the table, right by Mel's shoulder.

"Goddammit…why did you have to try and save me?", came his sad, muffled voice from his lowered head.  
"Why couldn't you just have let me die, instead of making me watch you die in front of me?"

He raised his head, but sank his chin back into the confines of his arms' cushion, his eyes staring blankly, as though right through Mel.

"Better yet, why couldn't I have saved you?", he asked, his voice a bit of a drone.  
"Let me save you for you saving me…then I might be gone, and you'd still be here, faring much better because you've always been the stronger one…but no, you go and get shot, and leave me all alone on this piece-of-shit-planet, so I can follow you here for a five-minute good-bye…"

Suddenly, he jumped to his feet and slammed both of his fists down on the edge of the table, sending a loud echo through the room and shivers across the sheet that covered most of Mel's body.

"_I thought you loved me!_"

Only his echo answered him, as it ricocheted off the walls of the huge room, coming at Niki again and again, as though he was the one who had been shouted at.  
It took a moment for his fists to lose their anger, and when they did, Niki's face fell with them: empty, hopeless, and devoid of energy, filled only with the great, never-ceasing sadness that had crowded him. He noticed his eyes beginning to brim with a fresh supply of tears, but didn't blink as he stared hopelessly at his lifeless lover.

"…I love you, Mel", he said quietly.  
"I love you so much…I love you so much, I c-can't live without you…"

He sniffed and blinked, and a pair of tears fell from his eyes onto the table. Niki closed his eyes, and begged with all his being that he would feel a warm, gentle hand reach up and wipe away his tears and sadness, releasing him from thee insane pain and dread that coursed through him. He prayed that a pair of arms would lovingly pull him against a warm chest to eradicate the fear of being alone and lost in a huge world. He pleaded that a pair of well-known lips would plant a kiss of his forehead and whisper reassurance to him, telling him not to worry, that his lover was not dead, and that he loved him just as he did.  
…But nothing came. No warmth, no caresses or kisses, and no love. Niki opened his eyes and found himself once more alone in the room, with Mel lying unmoving and lifeless in front of him on the table, unable to soothe his suffering and unable to tell him that he loved him. Niki sobbed and clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as more tears pushed into them.

"_Gah!_", he exclaimed as he opened his mouth and his sadness escaped him.  
"_Oh, my Mel, my Mel, my love…why you, why you? Why not me? Why you?_"

He raised his face towards the ceiling, feeling his tears run down his face and his throat tighten.

"_Ohhh Goood_DAMN YOU!", he cried out, choking on his own tears.  
"Goddamn you! Why! Why _my_ Mel! He didn't do anything wrong! He _believed_ in you! He _trusted_ you! Why did you take my Mel! WHY! _GOD-FUCKING-DAMN YOU!_"

And he slumped back down, his face in his arms, crying hard. When he did manage to raise his face from his arms, it was wet with tears, and his eyes were red from the crying.

"S-So…I g-guess even your God is against m-me, huh?", he asked Mel tearfully.  
"Yeah…n-nobody likes me…or my kind…"

He sniffed, but was stifled momentarily by an unexpected sob.

"_T-Two years_", he gasped out.  
"I've kn-known you for two years, and n-n-never…ever did you know wh-what I was…huh?"

The Experiment was quiet for a moment, before whispering;  
"_I guess…that makes us even…I never knew who you really are…or were…or where you came from. I never asked…I never cared…because of what you meant to me_…"

With effort, he raised himself again and managed to lean forward, practically crawling on the table, his head close to Mel's.

"…I love you, Mel", he said quietly, as though relaying a secret only his lover was to hear.  
"You're the most amazing and greatest thing ever to happen to me…I don't care who you were before I knew you…I just want you back…"

Carefully, he reached down beneath the covering and took Mel's hand into his own, while the other gently petted the Arhk's bony head.

"…_but I know_…", he finished, in a whisper.  
"…_that's not going to happen_."

He squeezed Mel's cool hand and stared deeply into the unopened eyes. Somewhere, far away and far less important, he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Very gently, he leaned down a tiny bit more, a pressed a tiny, unreturned kiss against Mel's lips.

"_I love you, my Mel_…", he whispered, still holding on to his love's hand.  
"_I promise…I'll never, ever…forget you_."

He pressed a final kiss against Mel's forehead, just as the door behind him opened audibly.

The Luik entered the room as permissively as he could, cradling a small, rounded urn in his left arm. He let the door fall closed behind him, and looked across the room at the small creature, leaning over across the dead Arhk. Though feeling increasingly bad for doing so, he tapped loudly against the death-vase in his arm to re-announce his presence in the room;  
"…Hey…you, uh…done, over there?..."

Slowly, the creature righted itself and turned to face the Luik; his face, even from afar, showed an expression of hard indifference. He didn't say anything, but turned back to the body, appeared to whispering something to the deceased, and gently replaced the sheet that he had pulled back. He descended the ladder almost casually, and turned to the Luik as if to indicate his next move.  
With a small nod, the mortuary worker set down the urn and moved over to the table. He took the ladder and carried it back to the wall before re-approaching the table. From his pocket he retrieved a remote, and called the floating stretcher back forth from its rest against the wall. Wordlessly motioning for the creature to move back (he needn't have bothered), he directed the stretcher once more alongside the table, and with the same reverent professionalism as before, he managed to move the body from surface-to-surface, without so much as disturbing the sheet.  
Taking control of the stretcher manually, he pushed it closer to the massive incinerator, the creature following him slowly. With careful coordination, he moved the stretcher so that its shadow, directly beneath it, fell within a pre-painted set of rectangular lines on the floor, about ten feet from the incinerator. He pressed a button on the stretcher, and took a step back from it, looking down at the creature, who returned the glance with the same emotionless expression as before.

"We should leave the room now", he told him.  
"For the incineration process, you know."

"I'm staying", the creature replied bluntly, without fidgeting with his statement.

The Luik felt a bit stupid at hearing this – after all, weren't people supposed to listen to him in his profession?

"Listen…", he tried to reason.  
"It's not going to be pretty, and there's a self-risk risk factor that you'd be undergoing-"

"I'm staying", the little guy repeated, in a voice that guaranteed no compromises.

The Luik looked down at the short, skinny little creature and considered him. It certainly irritated him that this little trespasser was going against his order like this, regarding that he had just been handed a favor in being able to say goodbye to his lover. If he wanted to, the Luik was sure that there would be no problem in picking the creature up and bodily forcing him out of the room and out of the mortuary. After all, he had no business in there to begin with, so why should-  
The Luik stopped in mid-thought, and regarded the creature for a second time. He looked at his determined expression, and he remembered what it must've taken for him to even make it this far, only to say goodbye to his beloved…such tenacity, the Luik had rarely seen, or even heard of. No, this odd little guy was not going to be denied…whether he, the assistant-undertaker, liked it or not.

"…Okay", the Luik said, smiling just a bit.  
"You can stay in here…but it gets very hot when the incinerator is on, so you have to stand against the far wall if you're going to be in here. Plus, it can get very bright as well, so I'd suggest…"

He reached into another pocket and produced a pair of plain, tinted glasses, which he handed to the creature, who took them with a small, wordless nod of his head.  
The Luik lead the way back to the far-end of the room, by the doorway, and pointed out a badly-faded red line that ran the length of the room, captioned with Turian writing "KEEP BEHIND", leaving barely four feet of space of provided walkspace.  
The Luik gripped the handle of the door and turned to look at the creature.

"I'll wait outside", he told him.  
"The incineration takes about fifteen minutes – give it an extra five for everything to cool off. I'll be back then, okay?"

The little guy, who had already positioned himself against the wall, nodded in return, but was already staring ahead, clad in the glasses, at the covered stretcher and the massive incinerator. The Luik nodded as well, more to himself than anybody else, and pulled open the door. Looking back once more at the incinerator, he pointed his remote once more, clicked it, and moved over the threshold and closed the door behind himself.

Niki barely even noticed the Luik's departure – his attention was focused solely on who lay some fifty feet in front of him: his Mel.  
In their final parting, they stood or lay not side-by-side, but were separated by a distance too far for Niki to comprehend. His final moments of seeing his loved one were not in some warm, loving embrace, but of seeing him disappear from this world completely, leaving not even a cold, yet familiar hand for him to grip.

The incinerator, that massive furnace set entirely into the opposing wall, was heating up and brightening fast. Niki took no notice of this, not even when the ventilation crevices set symmetrically into the wall of metal began to display scenes of fire of what lay behind them. These fires quickly turned into the concentrated blazes that they had been built for, and the promised heating of the room began. By automation, Mel's stretcher began moving forward slowly, defying the heat that would drive any others away. A large, square hatch opened to receive the body, and the exhaust shot hot, billowing winds of pressure against the opposite wall, hitting Niki with force, bringing moisture to his face but not breaking his stance. Unblinded and unblinking, Niki stepped forward, as though following the moving stretcher, to the limit of the red line, leaning on the edge as though wanting to move further, but being unable to.

From inside the blazing inferno appeared twin robotic arms, bearing a long, narrow slate. These, with automated efficiency, slid the slate over the surface of the stretcher, and thereby scooped up Mel's body, securing him against the forceful exhaust with their tight, ungiving grip as they slowly slid him towards the fire, while the stretcher he had only previously rested on was blown away, against the wall.  
Niki looked on, his eyes now wide and once more laden with tears (that were being literally blown from his eyes), his mouth open. He reached out his hand, and looked as though he would've wanted to have called for a stop, to say that he didn't want his mate to disappear into the fires. But, before his voice was even heard, it was cut. He lowered his arm, and closed his mouth, still looking on into the blinding blaze.

"_You can't do anything_", he told himself, in the otherwise-empty recesses of his mind.  
"_Mel is dead – he can't hurt anymore, and you can't help him anymore_."

Mel's body had descended so deep into the brightness of the flames, Niki couldn't make out his head anymore. His insecurity was crying out against the latter message;  
"_What if there's still time? What if he's not gone? What if I can still save him?_"

As Mel disappeared further into the flames, the opposing side of Niki's mind retorted with stern reality;  
"_But he's dead. He's not alive. He can't be saved. I was too late to begin with – I lost him when he saved me_."

Slowly, Niki clenched his hands into fists, fighting to be strong in the face of what he was seeing, in the face of reality. He clenched his teeth as well, determined not to cry…("_Mel saved me. He would do it again. He saved me because he wanted me to live; because he loved me. I can't cry not – I need to be strong…need to be strong_…")…determined to be strong…("…_like Mel_").  
Niki looked on, unwavering, as Mel disappeared completely into the fires of the incinerator. Only the meekest shadow of his lover shone through, through the inferno, as his body was consumed by fire not unlike that which he and Niki had faced together earlier that night, which had occupied their final moments together.  
On the threshold of the safety-line, Niki saw himself looking into the maw of the terrible Dragon that had caused the fire of before, and the one of now. He kept telling himself to be strong like Mel had been, that he wouldn't back down, or break down and cry. It was more difficult than anything he had ever felt before – getting harassed by other Experiments, running for his life once, taking a customer he didn't want, or running for his life for a second time: nothing of any other nature compared to this, but still he stood, determined, and unmoving, as the raging fires consumed his love, taking from him the final worth in his life.

"…_I love you, Mel_", he whispered against the blaze, his voice not able to convey the strength his body was striving for.  
"…_Don't forget me, okay?_"

And then, the hatch closed, stopping the exhaust winds and blocking the view of the flames inside.

* * *

Sixteen minutes later, the Luik re-entered the incinerator-room once more, and found the small creature sitting against the wall, hugging his knees against his chest, his head down. The Luik reached down and gave his shoulder a small shake.

"Hey…you alright, buddy?", he asked.

The creature raised his head slowly and gave a single nod. Carefully, he removed the shaded glasses and handed them back to their owner, who couldn't help but notice the deadened look in the creature's eyes. Without asking permission, he reached down with both arms and brought the little guy to his feet…on which, to the Luik's dismay, he looked a bit shaky.

"So…it's done", the Luik said unclimacticly, to which the creature said nothing; the Luik added;  
"…I'll understand if you don't want to – I can do it, but I thought I'd ask – you could be the one to put your…uh, friend's ashes into the urn…if you want to."

The little guy looked forth at the now-unfiery incinerator, seemed to think on it, then looked up at the Luik and nodded.  
The Luik nodded back, and, picking up the urn and a small stool, lead the way over to the silent incinerator. Placing the stool in front a hatch much smaller than the main one, he let the creature climb on before he opened the hatch. Inside, in a small space, sat a rectangular metal tray, in which, it seemed, the ashes had been caught. Handing the small guy a couple of utensils and the urn, the Luik looked on carefully as the creature used a handbrush to sweep in the ashes, and a small set of tweezers to pick up the small, charred fragments of bone.  
Once this was done, the Luik took the urn and sealed it, closed the small hatch, and motioned for the creature to walk with him to the exit door. He held it open for the creature to walk through, before calling the floating stretcher to glide through the door as well before he switched off the lights and closed the door as he stepped through it, leaving the room housing the massive incinerator completely dark.

The walk up the sloping passageway was completely silent, sans footsteps of the Luik and the peach-furred creature. Each step for the stranger seemed to build a further resolute not to speak, while the Luik spent the entire trudge trying to think of something of meaning to say (the stretcher's thoughts and feelings, however, remained uncovered). Nothing of sense, though, came to mind, and even by the time that the two of them reached the top and the entrance, their party had remained without any exchange of words.  
They stood at the top, side by side, without much reason or viewable ambition. The Luik glanced a look down at the creature, and in the dim light, couldn't quite read his expression…besides that he seemed to be staring ahead, without movement. Not knowing what to think or say, his mind drifted to the thought of filling out the necessary report, now that the incineration was done…and, in a moment, the urn slipped from underneath his arm. He jumped, thinking for a terrible moment that he had dropped it…only to find it in the hands of the creature.

"I'm keeping this", he said shortly, holding it against his chest.

"Hey, now wait", the Luik replied, feeling that this had gone over the line of leniency.  
"Do you have any idea of what kind of trouble I can get into if that turns up missing? You can't keep that-"

He had reached for the urn, but the little guy had jerked away faster than he thought he could. The Luik thought once about reaching for it again, but upon seeing the now-illuminated face of the creature, immediately thought twice about it – the guy looked ready to fight for it, with favors.  
The Luik sighed, fed up with the situation and the entire night – so what if he wanted to keep it?  
He looked back at the creature…and found a more sympathetic picture: the creature, bereft of the animal-like, vicious possessiveness of only a moment before, was holding the urn softly in his arms, looking down at it with soft, sad eyes, thinking thoughts and feeling emotions known only to those unfortunate ones who had lost someone as close as a lover…he had seen it before.  
The Luik drew a collective hand over his mouth and chin and sighed; he was exhausted, but still concerned about the strange little creature's well-being.

"Look…", he said, after a moment.  
"Why don't you stay here…with me for a while? We could, well, try to work something out-"

"Do you think I have nowhere else to go?", Niki interrupted, raising his head and looking at the Luik with offensive eyes.  
"Do you think that was my home that was blown up earlier tonight? Do you think I'm some one-credit whore whose livelihood just went up in flames? Is that what you think?"

"_What did I say?_", the Luik thought to himself helplessly at this reaction.  
"_I just offered to help!_"

He was about to say so, when Niki's expression softened and he gave a small, exhausted laugh.

"If you thought so…you'd be right", he said quietly, not caring to what reaction this may lead.

"…I just want to help you", the Luik said, with some desperation.  
"I'm sorry about your lover…but if there's anything I can do, I really do want to help you."

Niki had known enough hypocrites, wannabes, and bullshitters in his existence to spot one the moment they opened their mouth…and he knew at once that the Luik was being sincere in his words and intentions.

"…I know", he said quietly, cradling the urn in his arms.  
"…Thank you for what you've already done for me…but…I don't think you can help me anymore."

"You could stay at my place for as long as you wanted", the Luik pointed out.  
"Anything you want: money, a ride to somewhere…"

Niki closed his eyes in the darkness and reflected;  
"_Money…a ride somewhere_…"

He opened his eyes again and looked at the Luik.

"You'd be surprised to know how much those two things have been on my mind, lately."

"C'mon – anything", the Luik pushed.  
"I want to help you…any way I can."

"You can help me…by not telling anybody I was here, and pretending you lost the urn", Niki replied, before adding;  
"…And by not asking why."

The Luik's face wrinkled in some desperation;  
"Isn't there anything else I can do?"

Niki smiled softly, but shook his head.

"No…thank you for everything."

He stepped towards the door, and while holding the urn in the cradle of one arm, he pushed the heavy door open by himself.

"Wait!", the Luik called, still standing alone in the dark.  
"Can't I…can't I even give you a ride anywhere?"

"No thank you."

"…Not even some money?"

"That's the least of my worries."

"…Can I at least ask what your name is?"

"…It's Nikita. And yours?"

"…Erin."

"Thank you for everything, Erin…bye."

And with that, Nikita walked out of the mortuary, and left Erin the assistant-undertaker standing alone in the dark, feeling quite helpless and confused.

As Niki began to walk down the wet streets leading away from the mortuary and into the collection of small buildings, he hugged the urn containing the remains of Mel against his chest and wondered if he had made the right decision in refusing all help and walking away. He thought about it for a moment or two, but quickly enough, as he entered further into the zones of poverty and debris, the heaviness of his still-aching loss crept back over him, causing him to lose himself and all care of direction in the darkness. He walked on, minding the roads, turns, and occasional vehicles he went by, but by large, he had little or no understanding or interest in what was going on around him. It had stopped raining, but he still found himself becoming quite cold on the wet, icy streets…though, not that he cared. On the contrary, he hoped that a certain cold would mean his death, which, he hoped, brought either the possibility of seeing his Mel again, or simply not having to feel the pain anymore.  
The standing fact, however, was this: in the near future, he would question both his decision to leave the Luik and the idea of death, regarding them both, at respective times, with opinions that changed with circumstances – he would both yearn to have taken Erin up on his offer, but would also feel it was the right decision to leave; he would wish he were dead, but would then also give anything to be alive. Alas, none of this mattered to him on that night, as he walked on through the darkness - cold, sorrowed, and feeling more alone than he ever had in his life.

* * *

That same night, after much walking, Niki raised his head at a surprisingly-large building that towered over its neighbors. A large building it was indeed, comprised of stone and metal, with a skeletal spire that ran up several hundred feet, and displaying beautifully-lit windows of painted glass: it was a church of some kind.  
Niki remembered Mel'sfaith – despite what he himself thought, he thought it only right that he should honor Mel's beliefs, and hope only for the best for his loved one.  
He made his way to the stairs that lead up the great double-doors of the church, at the top of which stood a Drozonian (species) priest, holding what appeared to be some sort of prayer-staff. Niki approached the priest with his head bowed for humility, feeling the eyes of the holy man catch him as he neared. Niki held the urn aloft, and bade the priest if he might speak a prayer for his deceased lover.  
The Drozonian priest, in sweeping robes of maroon and gold, showed indignation and disgust on his hairy, lumpy face as Niki said this, and tapped his stick smartly on the stone to show his disapproval.

"I have no time for this!", he growled, and disappeared through the large doors, briefly letting out the warmth of the inside.

Niki stood speechless on the steps, the urn still raised. He slowly lowered it and stared at where the priest had retreated…and his face contorted into an expression of anger, loathing, and deeper disgust than that of the priest.

"_So that's a man of God_", he growled, slowly turning on his heels and starting down the stairs.  
"_That's areligion of unity and compassion, where all are welcome in the name of God…a God who loves all_…"

He finished down the stairs, and moved slowly across the deserted street. At the sidewalk lay a discarded bottle. Niki slowly picked it up, and set down the urn. He turned around, took a few slow steps, and then ran at the church. Reaching back, he threw the bottle with all his might, which crashed squarely through the large, circular painted window above the double doors, shattering the glass with a disruptive racket.

"_SEE THAT!_", he shouted as loudly as he could.  
"SEE _THAT!_ WHO'S GONNA SAVE YOU FROM THAT!"

He found a stone, and likewise threw it as hard as he could, further damaging the window.

"SEE HOW STUPID YOU ARE!", he shouted, his voice fueled by the emotion in his loss, sadness, anger, and fear.  
"PRAYING TO A GOD THAT DOESN'T EXIST! _THERE IS NO GOD!_"

And before priests and church officials could make it out of the church doors, Niki had grabbed the urn and had already disappeared in the darkness.

* * *

"_An Angel's face smiles at me, under a headline of tragedy  
That smile used to give me warmth  
Farewell – no words to say, beside the cross upon your grave  
And those forever-burning candles_

"_Needed elsewhere, to remind us of the shortness of our time (tears laid for them)  
Tears of love, tears of fear  
Bury my dreams, dig up my sorrows  
Oh Lord, but why – do the Angels fall first?_"

-Nightwish, _Angels Fall First_


	10. Soft As A Butterfly

(_A/N: NOTE this chapter is a flashback in Niki's life_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 10

* * *

Night fell over the darker hemisphere of the city-dominated planet, moving the activation of streetlights, and neon signs, urging potential customers to give into their lusts, became brighter. Business, for the most part, was only picking up, but for a certain brothel-house, marked by a sign as 'Species', there was an unexpected lapse in customers entering through the glass doors (much to the anger of the fat, expectant owner). Occupants of the house, brought there over time by illegal trade, oppression, and desperation, took this blessed reprieve to rest their used bodies by watching television, napping, or finding a small bite to eat.  
That is, all but one. 

In the isolated room that housed the twin vending machines, on the couch, sat a small, sparsely-clothed creature, curled up and shivering uncontrollably. Salvaged, a vest around his shoulders was the greatest piece of clothing on him, save a faded pair of slacks that he wore. The vest was dirty, but it didn't seem to matter: with some desperation, he seemed to be trying to cover (or conceal) himself beneath the mangy little article, as though he were very cold. He sniffled, and with a strained whimper, tried to pull the vest over his shoulders while keeping his legs covered as well. Above his eyebrow was an ugly-looking bruise that seemed at least a few hours old, and his lower lip seemed a bit swollen.  
A sound of the building settling in the corner set his scared eyes into a frenzy, peering in all directions, as though he feared someone or something in the vicinity. Pulling the vest up to his chin, he whispered something tearfully under his breath, afraid to raise his voice at all;  
"_Help me…somebody, help me_…"

To his right, the door _click_ed and was pushed open, causing the tiny creature to whimper and quail in dread. He hid his face as best as he could in the vest, wondering if whether or not it was too late to fool the intruder by feigning sleep.  
There was silence. The door remained open, and there was no sound of it closing – only that of another's breathing in the doorway, most likely eyeing the quivering lump on the couch.  
The tan creature held his breath, and prayed with all his might that he wouldn't be approached: that whoever was in the doorway would just turn around and leave him alone.  
It seemed like minutes passed in this uncomfortable situation before the tiny guy allowed himself to take a sliver of a breath. It was so quiet; he didn't know if the onlooker was still there. He hadn't heard him leave, and he hadn't sensed him entering, either. Cautiously, he raised his eyes out from behind his dirty vest and peered out from behind it.  
To his greatest disdain, there was indeed someone in the doorway – standing there, staring at him.

The little guy blinked through his tears and took in his intruder.

His preliminary impression was that of surprise – at first, he wasn't sure whether he was looking at a male or a female. Whatever gender this someone was, it was a species that the peach-colored creature had never seen before: short, purple-skinned, and raptor-like. What seemed to speak most loudly about the character, though, seemed to be the clothes it wore – an azure-colored, open-chested nylon shirt (a flat chest was noted – a male?), dark-red, bell-bottomed slacks with a light trim, and flat-soled, heeled boots. His claws, short and sharp, seemed to be lacquered. His eyes were bright, and lined with eye-liner. His lips were brighter than seemed natural…lipstick?  
The two of them stared at eachother – one out of fear and uncertainty, the other out of assumed curiosity. Across the far hall, a large-headed customer opened a door, leaving with a contented sigh.  
The odd creature shifted its weight to one leg and cocked its head slightly.

"Newbie?", it asked in a voice that was high, but seemed to be masculine, nonetheless.

As the raptor-like guy said this, he let the door fall closed behind him with a small _click_, and the peach-colored creature on the couch recoiled slightly. The flamboyant reptile didn't seem to notice this, or simply didn't react in any expectant way on it: he raised his hand to his head to remove an imaginary hat, and gave a silly-looking bow, setting his right foot in front of the other.

"Welcome to the promised land of selling one's self", he said loftily.  
"Please, make yourself right at home, until the loudspeaker calls your name for service. Speaking of names, what's yours?"

He raised his eyes to the smaller creature's, who didn't respond and looked away, as though searching for a way (any way) out.

"Ah, I'm sorry; I should've known", the raptor said, taking a step towards the little creature.  
"A smart furball wouldn't give his name to just anybody who asked, now would he?"

He extended his hand, upon which were set two silver rings.

"Name's Mel", the raptor-creature introduced himself, grinning.  
"Name given to me by birth – not an alias used by the expensive hoes, like 'Diva-De' or 'Pussy-Pussy'. No, I'm just a regular, unfortunate fuck with a regular, inter-gender name. Yeah, it's weird; I know. What's your name?"

The peach-colored creature eyed the intruder's extended hand, hoping that it would be withdrawn if he didn't respond…but it wasn't: it stayed outstretched and extended. The small one raised his eyes to the raptor's face, and found him wearing yet another insuppressible grin, made almost freakishly odd by his extensive make-up.

"Sorry about the 'furball' remark", he apologized, still grinning.  
"But I promise I won't bite…what's your name?"

Slowly, the small creature raised his hand as well, and cautiously set it into the clawed hand of his few-found acquaintance.

"…N-Nice to meet you…", he managed quietly.  
"…I…really don't have a name…"

"No name?", the raptor named Mel asked, wringing the creature's small, furry hand.  
"Well, any nicknames you go by? Aliases? Initials? A serial number?"

A sudden rush was sent through the small creature at the mention of serial numbers, but it died down inside of him quickly enough; after all, how could this guy know about him? – about Experiments?

"…Six-two-zero", the Experiment mumbled under his breath.

"Sorry; didn't understand that", Mel replied.  
"Come again?"

"…Six-two-zero", the Experiment repeated, a bit louder this time.

"Bet that's your length, huh?"

The Experiment wasn't sure what he meant by this, but once more, that didn't seem to bother Mel, who sat down right next to him as though he were invited.  
Unsure of what to make of this close open-ness, the peach Experiment shifted slightly to the end of the couch.

"I'm just kidding; just kidding", Mel said, stretching out his legs in front of himself.  
"Well, then again, I wouldn't know…I mean, how would I know you like that, huh? Where're you from?"

The questioning and the nonstop talking was making the Experiment's stomach churn and giving him a headache; he groaned in return and bent forward onto his knees.

"Hey, you okay?", came Mel's voice, suddenly amidst with concern.  
"You feeling alright?"

"_No_", the Experiment groaned in reply, and gave a small sob.  
"_I think I'm gonna be sick_…"

"…Think you can make it to the bathroom?", Mel asked, trying to insert a bit of humor.

But the Experiment didn't think it was funny. He felt sick, violated, and afraid, and, at the time, couldn't hold it in anymore; he pushed his face into his knees and started crying dryly, digging his claws into his dirty, salvaged vest.

"Oh! Oh, hey, hey, now…don't cry; I didn't mean to upset you", Mel said quickly.

He reached out to put a hand on the Experiment's back, but it hadn't rested there for a moment before the Experiment jerked away. Mel almost looked a bit hurt at this.

"…I'm not going to hurt you", he tried to say, quietly.

"I don't want to be touched!", the Experiment cried out, tears of exasperation streaming down his face.  
"I don't ever want to be touched again! Never! Not again! Not like-…_that_…"

He dissolved back into his sobs after trailing off, leaving Mel sitting there, not knowing what to do. The raptor-like creature, however, had a pretty sure idea of what the little guy was talking about.

"…Tough times behind ya?", he asked quietly.

The Experiment sniffed loudly and raised his head, his chin quivering.

"I-I came here…b-because they s-said they had a j-j-job offering", he choked, staring into his damp hands as he did his best to talk.  
"B-But wh-when I got here, th-they….they beat me so b-bad I th-thought w-wass g-gonna die…and wh-when I couldn't m-move anymore, they said I w-would have to work h-here from n-now on…and if I tried t-to r-r-run away, they said they'd k-k-kill me…"

Once more, he pressed his face into his knees, his ungiving sobs jarring him every other second.  
Mel sighed. He nodded compassionately, and went to touch the Experiment, but, remembering his initial reaction, thought better of it and put his hands into his lap. He laid his head back for a moment and nodded again.

"Yeah…that sounds right", he said softly.  
"I mean…nobody's here because they want to be…"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tissue, and waved it in front of the little guy until he noticed it. While he blew his nose noisily, Mel crossed his legs and eyed the Experiment sympathetically.

"This place is run by the big boss-man, enforced by his two cronies, which you've already met, unfortunately", he began, handing the Experiment another tissue to dry his eyes with.  
"They get about twenty percent of what the boss takes from us, and get to fuck for free whenever they want to. Yeah, it's only two of them, but I'm afraid that that's enough to, uh, 'keep us in check', if ya know what I mean. They'll only get so many people to be hookers – just enough for them to be able to manage. Counting you, we're about twenty-five in here."

The Experiment cried out at being mentioned and cried into his hands, his balled-up tissues lying on the floor.

"C-Couldn't anybody g-go t-to the p-p-police?", he whispered through his tears.

Mel gave an acrid guffaw and shook his head.

"I don't think so", he said flatly, with contempt.  
"The cops haven't been in this area for years, and the nearest station is too far away to run to; you'd be caught."

"B-But it's only t-two p-people", the little guy choked, peeking through his fingers at Mel.  
"How c-can t-t-two p-people f-find someb-body in a h-h-huge city?"

"Well, everybody knows that every whore-house in this area is controlled by the local mob", Mel answered, the sharpness in his voice still directed at the subject.  
"They usually don't show up here for pleasure, but every once in a while, you see one of them ol' horse-heads come here for business. Everybody knows they take fifty percent of the profit, and I think they'd be ready to catch a runaway from their money-makin'…'sides, the cops probably couldn't care less about us. If one of us managed to show up at that station, the first thing they'd most likely do is check us for proper identification, t'make sure we weren't no illegal immigrants."

He shook his head once more and looked down at the Experiment, feeling true, heartfelt pity for the miserable, scared creature that had fallen into the web of the greedy spiders.

"I'm sorry to say so…", he said, as gently as he could.  
"But quite realistically, I think that now that you're in this…it's gonna be a while before you're gonna have a chance to get out."

The Experiment squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his hands over his large ears, whining loudly; this couldn't be true, _this couldn't be true_…  
He shifted his body, and a sharp pain emitted from his rear; he cried out and jerked forward, biting his lip and cursing tearfully in his exasperation.

"They made you…?", Mel asked him carefully, once the Experiment managed to gingerly settle back into a sitting position.

The Experiment's face flushed in shame, and he hugged himself as best as he could; yes, he knew what Mel was referring to – it was all too fresh in his mind.

"…They made me…", he whispered quietly.  
"They made me, w-with some I didn't even know_…_and it hurt so much…"

His face burning as much as his abused butt, the tiny Experiment turned away from Mel and tried to hold back his emotional stings.  
Mel shook his head in disgust – not at the Experiment, but at the story he knew all too well. In honesty, he would've wanted to tell the unfortunate newcomer how sorry he was that such a delicate, beautiful individual such as him had been thrust into this ensnaring position…although he knew nothing he could say could make the little guy feel any better about where he was and what had happened to him (besides, despite that Mel thought he was gorgeous, he wasn't sure if this was the best time to tell him how good he thought he looked – after all, he might not even like guys).  
Feeling both anger, disgust, sympathy, and pity at the same time, he reached into another pocket of his pants and pulled out a small, blue tube. He held it out to the Experiment, who caught sight of it and looked at Mel questioningly.

"Here", the raptor-like being said, extending his offering.  
"It's cool gel. Go into the bathroom and apply some to where it hurts; it'll help quite a bit."

The Experiment took the tube slowly, studying it with his wet eyes. He looked up at Mel, and asked him quietly;  
"…Why are you…?"

Mel shrugged his shoulders.

"Just in my nature to be a nice guy, I guess. Go use that stuff, okay?"

Carefully, the Experiment slid off of the couch and walked slowly towards the door that he knew led to the bathroom. He began to push the door open, but turned to look back at Mel in mixture of uncertainty, confusion, and discernment.

"Don't worry", Mel told him, before the Experiment had opened his mouth.  
"I'll wait right here for you."

The Experiment nodded slowly, and turned back to walk into the cold bathroom.  
Once inside a stall, he locked the door and unscrewed the lid of the tube and squeezed a bit of the blue gel onto the tip of his furry finger. He sniffed its neutral smell, and noted that it was indeed a bit cool. Taking the chance to follow Mel's advice, he pulled down his pants and reached his hand behind himself to apply the solvent. The coolness hurt momentarily, but sure enough, the stinging subsided considerably within seconds.  
He exited the bathroom a few minutes later, after washing his face, and found Mel, true to his word, still sitting on the couch. When he saw the Experiment, he grinned.

"Hope that helped", he said.

Quietly, the Experiment walked back over to the couch and handed Mel back the tube.

"…Thank you", he mumbled quietly, and sat down.

There was a subdued silence in the small room, broken only, after a few seconds, by the swishing of two heads turning: for a moment, the Experiment and Mel looked at eachother plainly, without boundaries or limitations, both having taken the same chance at the same time. Seconds later, they both turned away, as if embarrassed for their doubled brashness.  
The two of them stared ahead blankly, both of them contemplating their own respective thoughts and problems, which, coincidently, in some way, included the person they were sitting beside.  
Finally, after what was only about twenty seconds, the Experiment carefully turned his head towards Mel and asked, quietly;  
"Why me?"

"Pardon?", the raptor asked, turning towards the little guy in surprise.

"Why'd they take me?", the little Experiment asked.  
"I didn't do anything…why'd they have to take me here? Why can't I be somewhere else?"

Mel contemplated his answer to this question, then shrugged his shoulders to the last respective ones.

"You gotta ask God that", he stated simply, without patronizing.  
"Why you're not somewhere else? – you gotta ask God about that. Or think about how you got here in the first place. Now, you're here because you're ignorant and naïve. That's not an insult…you probably just didn't suspect anything when you read or heard about the notice to some wonder-job when you landed on this planet. How much money did you hear you were gonna be paid?"

"…It just said it was going to be a well-paying job…'domestic work'…"

"Yeah; all too true. Sounded great, didn't it? But you're new here, and to the world, obviously – anybody else here would know what a load of crap such an advertisement would be. Pure bait. Of course, there's plenty of new faces turning up on this planet, regularly; it seems to be a kind of dumping-ground for people out of luck with the worst to lose. How'd you get here, anyway? Where were you before?"

The Experiment didn't answer this – he turned his head away again, biting his tongue and hoping that Mel would forget the question.  
Mel sat, awaiting an answer for a short while, wondering if the little guy had even understood him…but quickly realized the obvious.

"Oh, I'm sorry…again", he apologized hurriedly.  
"That's none of my business…sorry I asked; I got carried away. Sorry."

"…It's okay", the Experiment assured him, looking back at him.  
"It's just…well, the part about just getting here is bad enough…and before that, I…"

He broke off, but Mel was there to pick up for him.

"You don't have to tell me", he said.  
"It really doesn't matter, right now – all that matters is that you had the bad luck of being stuck here, and now, you've gotta survive it."

The morbid side of his brain laughed hollowly as the Experiment heard this – after all, what use was there in surviving, whether he got out of this or not? Where else was there to go?

"Why?", he asked, a bit dully.

"Because", Mel replied, reaching back into his pocket;  
"It says so on my fortune-cookie strip."

"Huh?"

The Experiment leaned in close enough to smell a hint of cologne on Mel as the raptor held a white strip of paper between his clawed hands, with a message in Turian printed on it.

"See, here's what it says", Mel forwarded, leaning towards the Experiment.  
"_'Today, you will meet someone who will remain a continuous influence throughout your life'_"

He looked at the Experiment, closer than ever, and grinned loftily.

"'_a continuous influence throughout your life'_", he repeated, before crumpling up the paper and throwing it across the room.  
"Which means that you gotta stick around long enough to be the for-better-or-for-worse for me from now on."

The Experiment found this, once more, morbidly silly, a bit disturbing, and even a bit aggravating – stupid fortune cookie, and an even stupider raptor for believing such nonsense.

"Suppose that's not true?", he challenged.  
"Suppose I die tomorrow?"

"I suppose I'd die as well", Mel replied, still smiling as he shrugged.  
"But not without you doing something significant first, though. But you won't die – you haven't been exposed to the light yet, and you wouldn't die without a chance of being saved."

"…What?"

"Oh, don't worry about it; just take for granted that you're not gonna up and die tomorrow."

Far from being reassured, the Experiment looked down and frowned deeply.

"…So that's it?", he asked.  
"I'm gonna spend the rest of my life doing…this?"

"What, talking to me?", Mel asked.  
"I didn't think I was such a bad conversationalist, but if you say so-"

"_This is serious!_", the Experiment shouted, looking up angrily at Mel, with fresh tears in his eyes.  
"I don't want to be here for the rest of my life! I don't want to have to do this! I never wanted to be here!"

"…Nobody ever wanted to be here", Mel said quietly, realizing he had gone too far.

"_But not me!_", the Experiment yelled, as the tears began to run down his face.  
"Not me! _Not me!_ Do you have any idea _what_ I am!"

"…You're a very good-looking somebody, if I may be honest."

"_Shut up! _I don't want to talk to you!"

The Experiment jumped off of the couch and ran into the corner of the small room, ducking out of sight between the wall and the massive automat.  
Mel said nothing. Though he cursed himself for pushing the point this far, he said nothing, and simply waited, unsure of whether or not he should make the first move. However, soon enough, he looked back up, woken by fresh sobs, coming from the direction of the shadowed corner.  
He stood up from the couch and made his way over to the machine. Peeking behind it, he found the little guy curled up tightly, shaking as he cried into his hands.  
Mel lowered himself to his knees, resting himself briefly on his thighs. Then, tenderly, he reached out with a single hand, and petted the Experiment across his bony, furry back. Somehow, he knew the Experiment wouldn't flinch, and he didn't – he just kept on crying, and Mel continued to stroke him tenderly.

"…I really thought I could it…", the little guy whispered after a while, raising his head just enough to be heard by Mel.  
"After I left…I dared to think that I could make it…but this…this is just as bad as it was before…"

He sobbed once, gasping for air as though he were suffocating.

"N-Never this…when I thought I was…I never w-wanted this…I never wanted to feel like this…"

"Neither of us did", Mel whispered back, setting his hand gently on the Experiment's shoulder.

The little creature looked up at this, back into Mel's ever-bright eyes.

"…W-What?", he asked.

"…What I mean is, I can understand what you're going through", Mel replied, rubbing the little guy's shoulder.  
"I mean…I'm here too, ain't I?"

The Experiment reached to his face with one hand and tried to wipe away a tear with the back of his wrist.

"H-How'd you…come h-here?"

"…Long story", Mel replied.  
"Somewhat along the lines of what I presume you're saying. But that's a story for another time – it's late, and you need to get some rest; we can share the room I called."

His first, instinctive thought automatically told him to respond that he didn't want to go to sleep, but, almost at once, it fell in immediate contrast with how the raptor seemed to be trying to help him. Oddly enough, even though he wanted to feel suspicious about this presence of kindness in such a dark place of misery, he didn't sense anything dishonest in the air about Mel.

"…Why?", he asked again, blinking his damp eyes at Mel.

"…Why what?", Mel asked.

"Why are you being so nice to me?", the Experiment asked, his voice soft.  
"Nobody's ever been this nice to me before…"

Mel shrugged again.

"Well, they probably didn't realize what a great guy you are", he replied, giving the Experiment's shoulder a friendly shake.

The expression of unconvincedness of the Experiment's face, however, prompted him slightly tone his grin and enunciate.

"…I suppose I just like you, honestly", he said, his voice quieter, as though he were dropping his usual poise.  
"Not like that, in any…sexual way, or anything…I just saw you earlier, and I liked you from the moment I saw you. Don't ask me why; it's really not natural for me. I was lying when I said before that I was a nice guy, actually - I'm an Arhk, and we're usually assholes about everything. You're the exception; I guess…the one in a billion."

Unsure of what to make of this, the Experiment only sat up and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. With a smile on his face so delicate it seemed almost completely out-of-character for him, Mel reached forward and for a moment, placed his clawed hand over the Experiment's furry one on the ground. The little guy looked up at Mel in surprise and question. The Arhk only continued to smile.

"Don't you worry", he told him softly, so only the two of them could hear.  
"It seems worse now, but I'll look after you; I promise. I'll be there for you whenever you need me – I swear."

* * *

This would be a promise that, as the passing two years proved, would not be broken. Though still feeling very lost, confused, and scared, the Experiment, at that moment, laid all of his trust in Mel, knowing that the Arhk was the only way he would be able to live through what lay ahead of him. Symbolically blind, he allowed Mel to take his hand and guide him through fog and fire, through stinging rain and freezing snow. Through Mel, the Experiment learned the arts needed to save himself from the onslaught of prostitution, savoring what money he managed to hold onto, valuing the numbing effects of alcohol when necessary, and keeping himself sane by spending as much time as he could with the raptor – talking, listening, learning…and even, after some time, laughing, in ways he had never laughed before.  
He couldn't foresee the extent of the two years that would lay in front of him, but by becoming tougher than he ever could've imagined himself, the Experiment managed to live through the days, valuing every bit of new knowledge (and even the hard experience) that would help him survive in the violent new world. 

His name was, like most of what he owned, was salvaged – specifically, from a report detailing the death of a popular actress that Mel felt looked somewhat like him. He held onto it, storing his Experiment's number in the back of his head, grateful now that when he heard Mel say 'Nikita' or 'Niki' (he liked the abbreviated version more), that he was speaking to him.  
Far from being the last thing given to him, Mel devoted almost every free second of his time to the Experiment, sharing with him everything he held, including food, money, and always a bed to share the night with (as friends, until much later, uniformly).

Despite the never-ceasing air of deprivation that humided throughout the brothel, Mel was always the light to look for whenever Niki felt down – whether he was waiting for Niki with a bag of dinner, or making him laugh when he felt like crying. Thus, despite that he took in all he could, Niki never truly learned too much about his fellow unfortunates in the brothel. They didn't seem to like either him or Mel, assuming that since they spent so much time together, they were gay, which was ostracized even in the lowest of places. Strangely enough, this didn't bother the Experiment as much as it might have in another situation; Mel was the only friend he'd ever need, he decided, as Mel was every friend that he ever could have. To him, Mel was the greatest, most perfect individual in the entire universe – quite possibly, the only good thing amidst an infinite number of evil manias.

But most important to him, what he reminded himself every time he laid down to sleep, and every time it felt harder to live, was that no matter what happened, Mel would always be with him – to soothe him, make him laugh, and continue to be the only thing that made life worth living.  
Even then, before the two fateful nights that changed his life once more, he knew that he loved Mel: he knew that he loved Mel with all his heart, and that he'd be willing to die for him if ever he should need to.


	11. Crimson Symphony Metallico

(_A/N: here's the latest chapter, written and uploaded faster than I thought it would be (_I got a lot of time on my hands, huh?_). This chapter takes us back to present: we're not dealing with flashbacks for the moment. Prepare to meet a new/familiar face – and remember what they say about first impressions… I'll have some more to say at the end of the chapter – until then, please enjoy_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 11

* * *

Hover-cars of all sizes moved through the multi-level traffic lines, spanning up hundreds of feet amongst the skyscrapers, underneath a sky that had surpassed its daily youth, but had yet to approach mid-day. Horns of all pitches honked irritably, and creatures from all levels of height yelled, shrieked, roared, and cawed at eachother from the cockpits of their ships.  
Though vehicles divided their driving populations between the numerous levels of lanes, the lane at the very bottom, "ground zero", was often considered the most dangerous: mid-air accidents were rare (though often catastrophic on occurrence), and even though ground-level collisions weren't a usual occurrence either, they generally gained the most fatalities, as the collisions directly involved pedestrians. This, however, didn't keep the sidewalks bare, as their pavement usually fared a reasonable amount of miscellaneous aliens who either didn't own a car or had taken to the recent wave of healthful/environment-friendly advertisements: "_save both your body and the artificially-regulated atmosphere by walking, not driving_".  
The vehicle-lanes and pedestrian-ways were always moving on and on, spitting smog and hot air in a continuous effort to get wherever the excretor wanted. 

Once again, there was but a single soul who deviated from the majority.  
Sitting on the edge of the sidewalk (the most hazardous place to be), his unclothed feet dangling over the six-foot drop-off, was Niki. He sat hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees, staring dully into the gravelly darkness of the shallow abyss, his ears loose and blowing gently with the wind of each passing car. Passer-byes glanced at him, but didn't as much as advise him against his dangerous perch, out of whatever cause that they deemed the small, peach-colored something un-needy of their attention.  
Niki's eyes were damp, but he didn't think he could cry anymore. He didn't know where he was – he had walked aimlessly throughout the entire night and morning, feeling as though it had been a thousand kilometers, but not caring in the slightest. Only when the sun had risen beyond the skyscrapers did he realize that he was once more surrounded by them (skyscrapers), and that he was in a part of the never-ending city that he had never before entered. Only when the sun was directly overhead, and the sidewalks had become too crowded to allow aimless trudging, had the Experiment set down his urn by the edge of the car-way and sat down next to it, open to the possibility that a car would quickly take his head off.  
He sat without waiting, thinking about nothing in particular – only brooding in his thick fog of misery. Though he felt as though he had emotionally burned just the night before, the fire that had hurt him had now burned down into smoking, clay-like embers; never ceasing in their creation of the smoky fog that held him in place, taking away his will to move, to go on, or to live, and even allowing him to forget that he had ever laughed in his life.  
He thought about the lab, and how one simple, honest confession had ruined any hope he had of friendship or companionship. He remembered where he had landed only a short while after the raid, and how his own naivety had taken two years of his life and made them miserable. He thought of Mel, sniffed dryly, and hated himself for not being a smart enough hooker when the Perentil had wanted a blowjob – if he had just given it like the sick motherfucker had wanted, Mel would still be alive now.  
Niki put his face into his hands and peered through his fingers at the passing cars. They weren't moving fast enough at the moment to kill him on impact, but if he waited until they sped up…  
He looked down into the drop-off where the sidewalk ended and pondered it as well: the simple fall wouldn't be enough to kill him, but he figured that if he had the courage to jump head-first, he may be able to break his own neck…  
Then he glanced over at the urn sitting beside him: a taunting, ashy remnant of the only person he longed for. He asked himself if Mel would find killing himself acceptable, if it were for the noble cause of reuniting them – would it be a worthy death, for somebody whom nobody in the universe cared about?

"What the Hell am I thinking?", Niki mumbled to himself under his breath.  
"Mel's dead…he can't decide anything for me anymore."

Niki raised his head and peered up at the sky, wondering if a Heaven could even exist in those artificial clouds. A single tear, more salty than wet, slid down his face and he looked back down, lying to himself that the sun's glare had caused it.

"Oh, Mel…", he whispered silently to his knees.  
"I miss you so much…"

He tried to cry, but the tears wouldn't come; they just wouldn't come. Feeling that now even the ability to weep had been taken from him, Niki closed his eyes and decided that the next fast car that passed would be the last thing he ever saw.  
The sound of the cars continued steadily, and Niki didn't raise his head; he waited for the rush brought by cars picking up speed, asking himself if he would be brave enough to face the end with open eyes, or if he would rather keep them closed, so that he may only feel the final, momentary pain.  
The cars didn't pick up, so Niki continued to sit with his head down, not listening or even paying attention to anything around him. It was due to this separation that Niki didn't hear the approaching sounds: low and distant at first, but growing louder steadily – so loud, in fact, that it began to drown out the ceaseless commotion of the lines of cars, and filling the air with its own hellish racket.  
Eventually, Niki began to notice it, too; it began as a distant irritation in his ear, like a mosquito or an annoying fly. If he hadn't been so preoccupied, he would've flicked his ear. But it grew louder, unwainingly, closer and closer, like some sort of ferocious machine or animal. Niki had never heard anything like this before, but still, he didn't look up ("_Maybe it's a crashing spaceliner…maybe it'll do the job for me_…").  
Louder and louder, shriller and shriller it became, until finally Niki couldn't help but open his ears to it, though continuing to keep his head down.  
A violent cacophony of sounds – resembling a wooden table being pounded by hammers, and the repeated ignitions of some chainsaw-like instrument – rampaged behind a roaring, gushing, biting grunge-of-a-voice, incoherently spitting words and phrases, like some monstrous temple beast. This very sound seemed to puncture the air with bleeding holes, goaded on by the most sickening of vomit-like voice that a throat could produce, be it animal or individual.

And it was coming from right in front of Nikita.

It hurt his ears, but even though it sent chills and cramps down his body, Niki didn't flinch. He opened his eyes slowly, raising his head, and was met by the sight of an unmoving metal hull of a hover-car in front of him. The driver seemed to be leaning out of the window, looking at him.  
Niki raised his head further, up to the window, and met the eyes of what had to be another Experiment.

"…_slathered in blood; ripped to the bone and torn apart!_"

There was no other creature of any sort in the car with the Experiment, so the audio-induced perversity had to be coming from some kind of stereo. This didn't concern Niki at the moment, however – his mouth had fallen slightly open as he gazed up at one of his kin, the first of them that he had seen in over two years.  
The Experiment in the car, of all things, was grinning. Niki saw his head disappear back into the car, and after a second, the blasphemic grunge subsided a bit. The Experiment's face returned, and he was still grinning.

"Hey there", he said, talking in an even-voiced, moderate tone (the commotion of the other cars seemed to have died down for way of the 'music').  
"Whatcha' doin', sittin' there?"

Niki wasn't sure whether it was shock, or whether his ears were still ringing – he had hardly heard the Experiment's words. He didn't at all notice that pedestrians passing behind him were staring at the scene.  
The crimson-furred Experiment obviously noted Niki's open mouth and brushed a hand over a dark, grainy-haired Mohawk that ran between his large ears (one of which was pierced near the top with a gold ring).

"Come on; I'm not that good-looking, man."

Niki caught himself and closed his mouth quickly. Still, he couldn't yet blink or take his eyes off of the Experiment, who sat with one of his (very muscular) arms hanging out of the window, grinning at him as though his presence was a pleasant surprise.

"…Who…?", was all Niki managed to say, now sitting up straight on the curb.

"My name's Gomora", the Experiment replied, having understood the one-worded question.  
"Like the band, y'know? My number's 398. What's your title?"

"…My name's Nikita…621…"

"…_stabbed in the stomach and gored in the neck; vertebrae bashed until it breaks!_", the music roared.

The Experiment named Gomora raised a playful eyebrow and cocked his head.

"You don't look like a later model…", he observed.  
"Then again, you don't look like a liar, either – I'm sorry; I'm just messing with you."

He reached out his hand to Niki for a shake. With some subdued apprehensiveness, under-ridden by his awe, Niki slowly accepted the gesture, and had his hand wrung by Gomora's warm, clawed hand.

"So, again – what're you doing out here?", Gomora asked, after literally pulling Niki to his feet.  
"You waiting for a ride or something?"

Not really noticing that he had just been single-handedly lifted onto his feet, Niki finally managed to blink, and he swallowed once.

"Uh…something like that…"

"You going anywhere in particular?"

"…Not really…"

"…_veins cut and tendons ripped; skulls crushed in an iron grip!_"

"You wanna ride with me?"

This immediately turned off the overriding aweness that still reverberated in Niki's head, and brought him back to reality quite suddenly. He actually took a single step back, and his eyes widened to their full extent for a moment - go with a stranger, in his car? – flashbacks of the repercussions of such an action feated in the past appeared in his mind, and almost immediately, his impression of Gomora became suspicious.

"Where to?", he asked warily, lowering his head a bit in suspicion.

Gomora turned down his music to a low rumble, but he didn't seem too bothered by Niki's obvious doubt of him. As a matter of fact, he looked quite hopeful.

"Wherever you wanna go", he replied.  
"Have you got a place to stay? You could stay at my place if you wanted to. Or we could get something to eat; you're looking awfully thin."

Niki stood there, faced with returning drone of traffic and a Mohawked Experiment in his car, bidding him inside of his car with a grin. Niki clenched his fists and bit his tongue, pressed between something he felt very suspicious about, and a long road of nothing behind him. With the entrance of this new Experiment, the over-simplified notion of ending his life had been violently intruded on by the Mohawked one. Niki could've cried in frustration.

"Come on…I promise I won't bite."

Niki remained tense for a moment…and then sighed, and allowed the density inside of his chest to be ignored, and eventually pulled away as though by a passing car, leaving him feeling empty, but not necessarily better.  
He told himself, for better or for worse, that meeting this new Experiment was a once-in-a-million coincidence that he was sure he'd never relive, no matter how long his life lasted.  
Figuring that he'd be able to ponder death at a later date, he shrugged his shoulders in a defeated fashion, picked up the urn, and stepped towards the mid-aired car.

"Great!", Gomora exclaimed delightedly, sliding open the door and moving back over into the driver's seat; the music subsided.

Niki stepped from the edge of the sidewalk over the drop and into the car, feeling a short-lived rush of nausea as he felt nothing but air beneath him for a moment, made worse by being one-handed, as he held the vase under his left arm. Once he had both of his feet in the car, he sat back into leather seat, watching as the vertically-inclined door slid back into place, trapping him inside.  
He looked over at Gomora, who was smiling at him wit great enthusiasm.

"Sorry about my messy car", he apologized, without losing his grin.  
"I tell you, I get myself a nice big ride like this, and I don't even bother to keep it clean; you'd think I'd've been programmed better, huh?"

Niki sat nothing, but noted the crumb-laden corners of the foot-rests, and the ashtrays dirty with what appeared to be chewing-seeds (he also noted that the car didn't smell like qualm – Gomora didn't seem to be a smoker).

"You ready?", Gomora asked him ("_As if he needs my permission_", Niki thought to himself"), putting his hands to the controls.  
"Okay – let's go!"

He smoothly turned his aircraft back into the flow of traffic, and quickly rose up to one of the higher lanes of express. Moving steadily, he steered the two of them around a cornerstone-skyscraper and into a seemingly straight lane, relaxing in his controls as he leveled the vehicle in manual-pilot.  
Niki stared out of the window at the passing cars, wondering in which direction his gloomy life was now headed, and what the actual plans of his newfound 'acquaintance' were, and if they included anything reminiscent of his last car-related encounter. He sighed again.

"Tired?", he heard Gomora ask him.

"…You could say that", Niki replied, the irony of it apparent even to him.

"Well, if you want to, we could go to my place", the unknowing Gomora suggested, as he kept glancing from the traffic to Nikita.  
"I only live a few minutes from here – by car, of course. I got a couch that you could camp on, if you feel like it. Granted, it's more of a daytime-couch, but it's no worse than the bunks we slept in back at the lab. You hungry?"

Niki felt sick at the mention of the lab.

"No; I'm fine."

"Well, that okay – not like I don't have food at my place, although I hope you don't mind microwaveable stuff. I'm not much of a housekeeper, either, so don't be shocked when you see my place, 'kay? But besides that, I got intergalactic-channel television and a soundbox that'll knock your pants off – you like music?"

Niki, without turning his head, gave a glance at the car's stereo system, and felt his ears still violated from the distinct brand of 'music' that he had been exposed to just a short while ago.

"I guess so…music, yeah…"

"Cool. Though, you'll be out of luck if you're looking for anything below heavy at my place. You're not a death metal fan by any chance, are you?"

"…Sorry."

"Well, what the heck; we can't all be headbangers, can we?"

"Hmmm…"

"You familiar with what I was listening to before?"

"No."

"'Mutilation' by Manotaur Skull. You like it, by chance?"

"…I don't know; I couldn't really understand much of it…"

"Want me to put it back on?"

"…Well, it's your car…"

"Oh, we can do that later. Anyway, what were you doing, just sitting back there?"

Niki looked down and didn't answer, and after a few moments, Gomora seemed to correctly interpret his silence ("_I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it_") and moved on, unfortunately, with an equally-difficult question;  
"…So what're you doing here, on this planet?"

"…Just got stuck here, for a while, I guess", Niki answered dully.

"Yeah, I know what you mean", Gomora said.  
"I don't think anybody ever means to come here on purpose – still, it's not that bad of a place once you get used to it."

"_I must've never gotten used to it, then_", Niki thought to himself, semi-sarcastically, but asked Gomora aloud;  
"If it's not your favorite place to be, then why don't you get out of here, off of the planet? I mean…you look like you could…"

"Oh, stop flattering me", the crimson Experiment replied with a grin.  
"But yeah, I could think of better places to be, but I guess you could say I've got my reasons for staying here for close to year, so far…it's one of the few places a guy like me – y'know, an Experiment – can get a job, y'know?"

Niki nodded, unsure of whether this statement had been infuriatingly ironic or coldly sadistic.

"Yeah, I suppose I'm lucky, though", Gomora went on.  
"The pay's good, so I can keep a good place a bit up in the higher district – I got a pretty nice apartment, though I can't really keep it clean. Y'know how it is, living single…"

He said some more, but Niki had turned his head towards the window, watching as the buildings became taller and taller. Their sheer sizes made him feel uneasy, and he cradled the cold urn against his stomach.

"…yeah, we'll be right there in a minute", Gomora said, before glancing back over to Niki.  
"By the way, what's that?"

He indicated the vase, and for a moment, Niki tried not to answer. Gomora's eyes stayed on him this time, though, and thinking that he'd rather answer than die in a careless crash because Gomora wasn't watching the road, he mumbled in reply;  
"…Just a vase…I'm…a bit attached to it…"

"Yeah, I know what you mean", Gomora replied with a silly grin.  
"I got a powder-box at home that I just can't do without, myself."

Niki didn't reply, and for a while, Gomora busied himself with the traffic.  
He steered the car around another corner of a building, and steered straight until easing up against the street-limit. Niki looked up, and through Gomora's window, saw a pearl-white, magnificently-tall skyscraper, which he immediately recognized as a sort of hotel or resort. It stood a bit alone by itself, allowing for cars to circle it. As Gomora did so, Niki peered out of the driver's side-window and caught the large-titled name near the level-entrance: '_Adamantium Stay_'.  
Gomora didn't head down, but circled the building in a bit of upwards-spiral, until he was beckoned inside by a high-level garage-door with blinking red lights. He expertly steered the cruiser inside of the dim entrance, shadow covering the lighted inside of the car. Once inside, an extensive line of parked cruisers greeted them, looking like expensive stallions in their stalls. Gomora hovered down along the line for a while before eyeing an empty space on the left, outlined in white paint and reading '_91 Flr. 8b_'. Turning into it headfirst, he leveled the car into an agreeable position and eased off the motor. The cruiser's hum died slowly, as the vehicle settled down onto the ground with a graceful _thump_.

"Got my own parking-space", Gomora said to Niki with yet another grin.  
"Sure, it's standard procedure for a place like this – it's my room number – but what the heck, huh?"

He pressed a button and both of their doors slid upwards and open, allowing for them both to get out. Niki, tightly gripping his urn, sidled onto the cool ground as the door closed and walked over to the end of the car. Gomora met him, holding a grey, paper folder that Niki hadn't noticed before in the car.

"This way", the red Experiment directed, and led Niki down the line of cars and towards a door - Niki was exasperated to find it an elevator.

The two of them stepped inside and Gomora looked up at the control-pad, situated some two feet above him. Without hesitation, he climbed single-handedly up the slick, metal wall of the booth and pressed a button, which lit up. He dropped back to the floor, and turned towards Niki, who had been watching him.

"Damn tall things, huh?", he said playfully.  
"Our little cross to bear, huh?"

Niki nodded, though not at all heartily.  
The elevator dinged and closed its doors on the pair, and, after a moment, released them into a pleasant, carpeted hallway, ornate with doorless commodes and plants.

"My apartment's right down there", Gomora directed, starting down the hallway.  
"There's another elevator about halfway-through that can reach the lobby. I try not to show my face down there too much; you know how it is.

Niki, not quite knowing 'how it was', followed him twenty-five feet from the elevator's exit to a light-grey door on the right. Gomora opened his folder and pulled out a plastic card, quickly crawled up half of the door's length, and slid it through a reader next to the handle (Niki was surprised at this; usually doors simply slid open, and door-handles were a thing of the distant past. He dismissed it as a 'class-thing' of the hotel; what a silly place). There was a beep as the reader recognized the card, and Gomora jumped back down, pull down the handle as he did; the door opened with a click.

"Sorry about that", he said, looking over his shoulder at Niki.  
"By the way, I told you that it's messy, right?..."

He pushed the door open, and stepped aside so Niki could enter.  
Upon stepping over the threshold, Niki realized that Gomora hadn't lied about it being a sizably-nice place…even if, true to his word, it was a bit messy: what seemed to be the main living room easily carried a 30x20 dimension, with a pre-bedded rug-floor, and a row of circular windows spanning the far wall of the room.  
A dark-blue couch, about seven feet long, sat close to the far wall, facing a massive television to the right of the faced entrance. Before the couch stood a low-standing glass table, littered with magazines, soft-drink and alcohol cans, plastic bags of chips, and a single box of tissues. To the right of the couch, standing on a large commode, was a massive stereo system, complete with speakers as large as Gomora.  
Niki stepped in further, clutching the urn as he looked around. Behind him, Gomora closed the door and stepped up next to him.

"Yeah…I know: it's a trogsty. Sorry. I could clean it up if it's uncomfortable for you to…"

He said so with what seemed to be embarrassment, and Niki figured that the only reason he did so was because he was faced with another Experiment; Gomora looked like somebody who otherwise really wouldn't care what others thought of him or his apartment.

"You thirsty?", Gomora asked, as though wanting to draw attention away from his messy residence.

Niki hadn't noticed before just how dry his mouth was; his lips were chapped, and his tongue, stationary for quite some time, seemed quite arid.

"Um…sure", he accepted, secretly glad at the offer.

"Great!", the Experiment replied, obviously excited to serve his new comrade.  
"I got water, fruit juice, coke, iced tea, milk, lite beer, Betarian wine, ice spritzer…what'll it be?"

"…Iced tea, please."

"Okay – one iced tea, coming up!", Gomora replied, turning and hurrying to a right-sided room.  
"Oh God, don't follow – the kitchen's even worse! Just a minute!"

Gomora pushed the door to this room open and disappeared behind it, and Niki heard him gathering glasses. An abrupt crash signaled that, in his excitement, Gomora had broken one of them, and he cursed loudly.  
Niki didn't worry himself, but continued to look around the room. An insignificant door by the television might've been a bathroom or a closet, and a more-noteworthy door on the left end of the living room probably led to the bedroom, Niki supposed - wondering what, besides a bed, would be in there.  
The television didn't interest him too much, despite its size, but he eyed the stereo system with some interest; he had never seen one quite so big before. He took a few steps towards it, and noticed an open drawer of the commode the stereo rested on. He stepped up to it, and, as the monstrous soundmaster towered above him, he peered inside at what appeared to be Gomora's un-arranged CD collection. Curious at the colors of the messily-stacked cases, he pulled one out by random and looked at it.  
The front cover displayed a group of wild-haired Uavilins riding atop a monstrous Dragon-like creature, in front of a fiery backdrop.

"'_The Come of Hell_'…by 'Killer Trog'", Niki read to himself.

He set this one back and pulled out another, this one of a darker cover.

"'_Endless Nightmare_'", Niki read, and eyed the illustration of a shadowed, skeletal figure with dripping fangs.  
"…By 'Nox Draconus'."

Not sure whether or not any of this was supposed to be serious or not, Niki replaced the CD pulled out another. He was repulsed by a cover depicting some sort of monster gripping a bloodied skull with the meaty vertebrae still attached. The title read '_No Hope for the Weak_'. The group was Gomora' afore-mentioned Manotaur Skull, and Niki's ears seemed to reignite their ringing as he read this. He turned the case over, and gazed at the track lists that made his stomach turn over in disgust;  
"One – 'Pounded with Knives'; two – 'Devoured by Giant Spiders'; three – 'Landslide of Disembodied Virgins'; four – 'I Ate You Alive and Made You Watch'…"

"And you say you're not a fan of metal?"

Niki, unstartled, turned to see Gomora approaching him, holding two pink-tinted glasses. He quickly put the CD back.

"I'm sorry", he apologized appropriately.  
"I didn't mean to…disorganize your shelf…"

"Oh, forget it; I've been meaning to sort out that mess", Gomora replied, and extended one of the glasses.  
"Here's your iced tea."

After carefully setting his urn on the floor, Niki accepted the cool glass. He peered inside, and found a dark-colored, watery liquid with a faint peach-like aroma. Two ice-cubes floated atop the drink, fused together, originally attracted by their consecutive coldness.  
Niki noted to himself that he had never really looked at ice cubes this closely before…

"Ya wanna toast?", Gomora offered, taking back Niki's attention.  
"I mean, it's not every day that luck finds the two of us in the same eye, huh?"

"…Sure", Niki agreed, and slowly extended his glass.

Gomora moved his own against Niki's with a hearty _cling_, and leaned his head back as he drank a swig. Niki lightly raised the edge of the glass to his lips and sipped – the tea was a bit too sweet for his liking.

* * *

Mid-morning had turned to afternoon. The sun, the only thing greater than the city's massive skyscrapers, began its slow descent towards the horizon. The faintest hints of shadows began to appear, and Niki started feeling tired.  
Not only that, but he felt odd. He was sitting at one end of the "daytime couch", half-listening to Gomora talk, which he had been doing for what seemed like hours. He had been preoccupied nearly the entire time that he spent inside the new Experiment's apartment, but only now did he realize that, at the start of the day, he was sure that he would be gone by now; positive that he would've worked up the fortitude before now to have left the world.  
Yet here he sat, after having accepted yet a few more glasses of sweet iced tea, listening to Gomora ramble on and on about his life, the planet, how he got there, how his life back at the lab was, and if Niki wanted something more to drink.  
The peach-colored Experiment's eyes shifted to look at his new comrade, who seemed tireless as he chatted away animatedly about something or the other. As he sat there, watching him, Niki wondered to himself: was this Experiment really the only reason that he was still alive? If so, was it worth it? Niki painfully admitted to himself that Gomora certainly had a nice body that he liked, and his Mohawk was a sexy (if odd) touch, and even though he for some reason listened to vomit-inducing music, he didn't at all seem like an aggressive individual.  
Niki thought back to his first encounter with another Experiment of his liking – the one who had punched him in the chest, and initiated his ostracism, and perhaps even the downward spiral of his life. He noted that Gomora looked a lot like him, sans the color of his fur and the placement of the piercing. He remembered that it was his openness that had originally gained him so much pain…but Gomora was obviously being very open as well, without a hint of hesitation; did this mean something?  
It just didn't seem to fit: Niki had long since suspected and expected himself to be the only male Experiment who liked other guys…other guy-Experiment just weren't open with eachother like this, like Gomora was being. They only got together to eat, or play at the arcades, or fight or wrestle…not to sit on a sofa and talk and drink tea. What did Gomora want from him? 

"_Oh, goddamn_…", Niki thought and sighed.  
"_Oh, please don't let him be another pervert…let me just die with some dignity_…"

He felt very suspicious about the entire situation, but didn't feel up to acting on it – he was in a stranger's house, surrounded by a stranger's furniture, and had drank a stranger's iced tea: what chance did he have? Luck had certainly never been on his side.

"_And what about this place?_", he thought to himself.  
"_And his supposed job? How the Hell can one of us get an actual job? – it's impossible. We're wanted throughout the universe…how the Hell can he hold an apartment like this?_"

For a moment, Niki speculated about a theory involving Gomora holding the hotel managers at gun/knife/clawpoint, demanding to stay in an upper-class apartment…but then, he let his mind slip out of focus; he didn't want to care anymore.  
Feeling a bit weary, Niki's half-open eyes returned to Gomora, who seemed unaware of Niki's wandering.  
Crimson Gomora, who claimed to have left the raid-shelter shortly after the escape, and have flown solo for an entire year: traveling between planets and systems as a blind passenger or companion to some smuggler, sleeping in warehouses and in docks, making enough money for himself and a fare to the next place of adventure. He claimed to have sand-surfed on the Gobi moon, ran from border-police on the space-wires between Nega Urea and Nega Minor, and swore to have seduced pop diva Yentirb Areliuga after infiltrating her penthouse on Yerin 5.  
Niki believed most of this as much as he did in ghosts, and given the fantasticality of these stories, he doubted very much that they even could have happened; no Experiment was great as Gomora was pretending to be.  
Gomora's dramatic enunciation seemed to drop off considerably once his story reached the point of him arriving on this planet, which was supposedly due some linguistical misunderstanding whilst riding with a Pondorian frigate-driver (Niki believed this part, readily enough). Supposedly, he had lived off the street for a short while before 'earning' himself a "special position" at a local diamondsteel plant, though he denied being an actual 'worker'. He claimed that his job ("_Whatever it is_", Niki thought to himself) was easy enough, and that his salary was generous enough to allow him to reside at this apartment, and even to go out as often as he pleased.  
Niki had never heard of a bigger cloak-up, but he was too tired and too out of care to worry about it. So what if Gomora was the biggest liar he had ever heard? – it really didn't matter to him.  
…A nagging voice in his mind questioned why he was still alive, then.  
In an attempt to shut it out, Niki decided to open his ears to his companion again, and try to figure out what had been going on during the time that he hadn't been listening.

"…the best nakku I've ever had", Gomora was saying, seemingly only now looking back at Niki to check for a reaction.  
"I'm telling, the two of us should - …hey, are you getting tired?"

"Yeah, a bit", Niki replied, shamelessly.

"…Well, not really a night-creature, are ya?", the red Experiment said, with a small, bemused smile.  
"I mean, not to say anything against ya, but it's only…whoa, look at the time!"

He jumped up off of the couch with such haste that Niki opened his eyes fully once more.

"Oh man, I didn't realize how late it was", Gomora said, seemingly surprised, irked, and even nervous at the same time.  
"No, not your fault, but…shit; I was supposed to be on my way to an appointment fifteen minutes ago."

"Appointment?", Niki repeated, sitting up.

"Yeah, stuff to do with my job", Gomora explained, grabbing his grey folder and cruiser keys from the table.  
"Nothing too serious, but I shouldn't be late; I should be halfway there, by now."

Searching around for something he may have missed, his eyes returned to Nikita, with a look of anxiety returned to his (Gomora's) face.

"Umm…uh, I won't be long; I promise", he said quickly, treading his feet anxiously on the floor.  
"I mean…you're gonna stay here, right? I mean, you don't have too; you can go if you want to, but if you'd like, you'd be more than welcome to stay here…I can make the couch more comfortable; I got some sheets and stuff in the bedroom, and…you're gonna stay, right?...for now?..."

Nikita eyed the fidgetous Gomora, realizing his anxiety: he wanted him, Niki, to stay, badly enough for whatever reason, but his appointment must've been one heck of an urgent one, if he was to be torn away from the Experiment he was entertaining.  
What if now was his chance, thought Niki – free from all restrictions, he could go, dismiss himself from Gomora's sight, and do what he had been intending to do throughout the morning – end his life.  
The nagging voice in Niki's head returned abruptly, piping up like a loose spark in his brain, speaking, for whatever reason, against the notion of leaving; something just didn't feel right about it, now. It had nothing to do with courtesy towards Gomora or anything of the sort – he felt no real attachment to Gomora – but, according to the voice, leaving a warm residence to go out into the dim evening to kill yourself was stupid.

"_So do I kill myself in here by finding a knife or something?_", Niki asked himself irritably.  
"_No, you fool! – stay here and wait!_", the voice replied urgently.  
"_Wait? Wait for what?_", Niki asked.  
"_I don't know; it'd just be a good idea_", the voice answered.  
"_It's a stupid idea_."  
"_No more stupid than going out and jumping in front of a car_."  
"_Will you just leave me the fuck alone!_"  
"_Well, all you have to do is tell me to leave._"  
"_No, then I'll do something stupid and kill myself!_"

Niki felt dumbfounded; by way of the conversation inside his head, he realized something that seemed as peculiar at the moment as having a conversation with a voice inside your head: he didn't feel like killing himself anymore…at least not for the moment.  
He felt tired, sad, miserable, and lonely…but not exactly suicidal. He deemed this odd, since it had only recently been imminent in his mind…but now, it felt as anomalous as reversing the laws of nature (then again, Niki admitted to himself that he didn't know these, either; he hadn't always paid attention in lab-class).  
Looking back at Gomora's near-pleading expression, he sighed softly, and hoped for the best while expecting the worst.

"…Yeah, I'll stay."

"Great!", Gomora exclaimed, clapping his hands together with glee.  
"Yeah, well, you can get to bed anytime you want to – sheets are in the bedroom, and the bathroom's right by the television. You can watch TV if you want to, and help yourself to anything in the refrigerator – the microwave's easy enough to use…"

He skimmed through his folder quickly before looking up, speaking to Niki while he backed towards the door;  
"I'll try and be back soon…might be a while, though…just…if you need anything…"

He reached the door and jumped into the air, gripping the handle and pulling it down behind his back.

"Okay…I'll see you later, then, okay?"

"See you later", Niki replied weakly.

For a moment, Gomora only smiled at him, making Niki feel both uncomfortable and…not, at the same time.

"…I promise I'll hurry up", Gomora said, inching out the door.  
"…Bye…"

A few seconds later, he slowly closed the door with a click, and for a moment, Niki could hear his footsteps as he ran down the corridor, towards the elevator.  
For a while, Niki sat quietly on the couch, contemplating, as everyone does, the after-effects of such a significant decision. With only his eyes moving, he surveyed the messy lodging that Gomora had invited and left him in, and wondered if this, and if Gomora, were really worth it.  
It hurt his head to do so, moving him to occupy himself with other matters. He eyed the disarrayed pile of magazines resting on Gomora's glass table. He leaned forward and began to sift through them.  
It was what he had expected to find in a place that Gomora occupied– '_Metal Underground_', '_Cage-Fighting Monthly_', '_Death Guitars 101_' (he wondered if Gomora played the guitar). Some of these were a bit sticky – Niki figured something must've carelessly been spilled over them, like the soft drink Gomora had been sipping before.  
He looked a bit further through the messy stack of subscriptions…and, after a moment, uncovered something that seemed a bit out of place. Holding it by his claw tips, he unearthed a rather worn copy of what appeared to be a copy of an inter-species gay porn magazine.  
'_Queer Porn Pics_' was the simple title, with a cover featuring a pair of nude Luiks in a Jacuzzi.  
Niki held the article in front of him as though it were a scarlet letter. It was odd enough to find this magazine in the same stack that contained death metal and combat-sport articles…but that it belonged to Gomora? Gomora, who had claimed to have knocked the boots off of a pop diva? Gomora, who listened to death metal? Niki, consciously enough, didn't want to stereotype, but he wondered if somebody who occupied himself with music that sounded like a slaughter could really like other guys? A guy who had a body like that could be into other guys? Secretly, Niki had always considered gay guys to be…smaller…and more passive, perhaps. After all, he and Mel had never listened to death metal…  
Niki considered that it could simply be a perversion: in the past, Mel assured him that any guy that came into the pouf looking for an experience with another guy most likely wasn't truly gay; "Freaks tend to their fantasies only when it's dark and they're sure no one will find out about it; they're in for nothing but the experience".  
Niki felt a strong hunch ushering him in a second direction – he picked up the remote control to the television and switched it on. He was greeted by a gay porn channel, currently depicting oral sex between a group of Mondavians.  
Niki felt sure about one thing – no heterosexual guy kept gay pornography and watched it on TV without reason.  
Switching off the television and putting down the magazine (neither interested him beyond his speculations), he slid off of the couch and picked up the urn, which had been standing, as though patiently, against the side of the table to be held again. Holding it against his chest gave him a certain serenity: Mel was the only person in the universe who had given him any type of positive feeling…and even though he was gone, Niki took minimal reassurance in the fact that they – the urn and him – couldn't be separated any further.

Straying away from the table, stereo, and television, he stepped towards the kitchen that Gomora had entered before, wondering if it really was in as bad of a state as he had claimed.  
Upon entering, he saw that Gomora hadn't been lying: if the junkyards of Flagon Maxtel weren't located on an asteroid in the outer rim, they would've probably been found in Gomora's kitchen. Dirty plates, pots, and pans filled the sink. Silverware occupied the entire silverboard. The stove had stains on it.  
Niki took for granted that the housekeeping was nonexistent in Gomora's apartment.  
Oddly enough, he found the refrigerator full, despite the fact that nearly everything was nonperishable: easy-open cans, plastic-sealed containers, and air-zipped snack-packs. Every type of juice and drink (sans the alcohol) was kept in a plastic container that wasn't its own. Fruit pieces were kept in an airtight plastic baggie. There was enough food to feed someone several times Gomora's size.  
Leaving the kitchen, and on his way to inspect the bedroom, Niki stopped for a moment to check out the small room located next to the television's stand. It was indeed a bathroom, though an untidy one: towels nearly carpeted the floor, and Niki noticed, from afar, that the tube of toothpaste lying on the sink was capless.  
Niki left the bathroom, and moved on to the bedroom, not knowing what to expect, except for a place to find bedware. Still, he pushed the door open unhesitantly and looked inside, prepared for the worst.

Surprisingly, the bedroom seemed to be the tidiest place in the entire apartment. True, it seemed evident that no maid had been admitted here, either, but at least the bed (to Niki, it was gigantic: enough to accept about ten or twelve Experiments, if both ends were used) was made, and there were no dirty dishes lying around.  
The sheets of the bed were blue and silky, and had a near-luxurious feel to them. Niki envied Gomora for a moment, thinking of the old mattresses and unwashed blankets of the pouf. Taking advantage of Gomora's permission, he searched under the bed and through the closet, eventually finding some extra sheets - white and fluffy. To justify his snooping, he picked the bundle up in arms, it being about as large as he was, and turned towards the door.  
As he held it, it pushed into his face, and he turned his head against it to grant himself some air. As he did so, he noticed a magnificent sword hanging over Gomora's bed - long-handled and tassled it was, and ornate in a ruby-red sheathe; it must've been four feet long.  
For another reason that Niki couldn't put his finger on, it seemed out-of-place, much like the porno magazine on the table. Niki speculated for a moment on why Gomora would need a sword of all things in his apartment. It surely wasn't for protection – if Gomora had wanted that, a firearm would surely have been more practical (he remembered Jumba giving every Experiment instruction and practice on using a standard pistol, in the case of necessary self-defense).  
A moment later, though, he decided to forget about it, and dismissed it as simply another odd possession that Gomora had in his life – after all, somebody who collected death metal CDs and gay pornography surely wouldn't mind having a sword or two in the house.

* * *

It was dark. Niki, lying on his back on the couch and under a pair of sheets – one of them half-kicked away – stared into the darkness of the ceiling, thinking about mortality and the decision he had made earlier. He had stopped worrying about the fact that Gomora had been gone for over three hours, deciding that he didn't care about what he was doing, or what was keeping him. Instead, in the darkness, he wondered about death, and where Mel was right now. He felt very sad as pondered so, but he didn't cry, even though he easily could've – he wasn't going to cry openly in a stranger's house, even though it was that of another Experiment (especially since it was that of another Experiment).  
Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and thought of Mel…Mel, who would surely want him to be strong. Crying, he thought, wouldn't be strong, but he didn't know what else to do: crying had never gotten him anything in life, but he didn't know what else could be done in a situation as helpless as his existence.  
Niki lay somewhere between frustration and sorrow, feeling disoriented and directionless, unsure and insecure. No matter how hard he tried to be strong, he felt scared and lonely to be alone in the universe, with no one to turn to for comfort, and no hand to hold and no ears to listen to his worries.  
There had only been Mel…and he would never see Mel again. 

"…Mel?"

Niki's voice was a near-whisper in the darkness of the night, speaking from beneath the obligatory sheets to someone whom he was unsure could hear him.

"Mel…are you there?"

There was no answer, and Niki, though hoping, hadn't expected one. It didn't matter, though: even if Mel wasn't able to talk, he surely would still listen to him; he always had.

"Mel…it's me…", the tiny Experiment said quietly.  
"…Are you there?...can you hear me?"

It was so dark in the room that Niki couldn't even see the ceiling – he wouldn't have known if he had speaking to another entity or not, even if a face were hanging inches above his own.

"…I miss you, Mel…I miss you like you don't know", he continued, hoping with all his might that he might somehow be heard, across the Great Divide.  
"I did like you would've wanted me to…I stayed alive for this long…but…but I don't know what to do now, Mel, or where to go…everything's so scary, all of the sudden…"

He blinked, and realized that in this darkness, he couldn't tell whether his eyes were covered or not: it was all the same.

"I don't know what to do…I need you, Mel…but you're not with me, anymore…"

Tears managed their way to his eyes, but in the blackness, they didn't irritate him.

"I need help, Mel…I don't like living without you, and I don't like it here…I don't like Gomora; I want you…I need help, Mel; please, please, help me…just some way…"

He squeezed the sheets beneath him as his voice broke, and he sniffed.

"Please, please, please, Mel…", he begged, alone in the room.  
"Just…give me some sign…anything; just let me know that you're there…that I'm not alone…please…"

On the other end of the room, the front door clicked as it was unlocked.  
For no reason other than not wanting to be found crying, Niki quickly rolled over onto his side, away from the door and squeezed his eyes shut.  
The door opened quietly, and for a few seconds, light from the hallway streamed into the dark room, illuminating Niki – curled up on the couch and feigning sleep. He heard the door close again, and slow footsteps coming towards him. Breathing – it sounded like Gomora…and smelled a bit like alcohol.

"_Oh no, please don't let him be drunk_", Niki pleaded inside of his head, hoping he wasn't shaking.  
"_Please don't let this porno-watching pervert be drunk and in the same room with me_..."

Gomora' footsteps and breathing came closer, until he seemed to be right in front of the couch that Niki lay on. Niki, whilst still acting his hardest to be asleep, definitely detected a delicate waft of alcohol on Gomora, who seemed to be eyeing him with the night-vision that Niki didn't share. Momentarily, Niki wondered what his curled-up form would look like through a light-green tint, through the eyes of somebody who had recently consumed some kind of whiskey. Niki wondered what he was thinking – what purpose he was trying to realize by keeping Niki in his apartment, by allowing him to sleep on his couch. Surely he had, as every other Experiment in the lab, come to know and ostracize him – why be so nice to him, now?  
Niki asked himself these questions to keep himself from fidgeting, as Gomora continued to stand over him.

"_God, what does he want?_", Niki asked himself, almost being gripped by anxiety.

He sensed Gomora move forward, towards him. He tensed himself, ready explode if Gomora touched him - …but he didn't.  
He felt Gomora take hold of the second blanket that Niki had kicked away, and felt him lift it up to place back over his curled-up body, seemingly interpreting his coiled form as a sign of being cold.  
Gomora then stood there for a minute more before moving away – Niki heard him walk over to the bathroom, where he heard water running and Gomora brushing his teeth. A short while later, he clicked off the light and headed into his bedroom, where Niki heard him jump onto his bed and settle into it with a groan;  
"Oh, merciful maker…"

Niki didn't move until he was sure that Gomora was asleep: until he heard Gomora's snoring. He then rolled onto his back and opened his eyes again, staring into absolute darkness, and regarding the seemingly-benevolent gesture that Gomora had exhibited. True, it wasn't much, and it seemed as though Gomora was slightly drunk, but to cover Niki from the cold was…well, nice of him.  
Perhaps…Gomora didn't harbor any dark intentions about inviting Niki to stay with him. Though Niki didn't want to jump his chances too early, he considered the idea that Gomora truly was only trying to be…nice.  
He rolled onto his side and hung an arm over the edge of the couch to stroke the smooth surface of the urn, and sighed heavily.

"I love you, Mel", he whispered sadly, lying back down onto his back.  
"…Sleep tight…"

* * *

"_I'll be the nightmare waking you up, from the dream of a dream of love_"  
'_Vampire Heart_', HIM

* * *

(_A/N: just so that y'all know, I think the lyric above goes along fine with the chapter, and what may be to come…  
__Gomora's entrance into the story turned out a bit differently than I had expected – the scenario was the same, but note that Gomora tends to show off and even lose his cool around Niki…he's not as smooth as he appeared in the first chapter, is he? Oh well; I've got time to develop…  
I'm a bit worried about this chapter, though - some of it seemed rushed to me, and, after writing it, I thought the conversation that Niki had inside of his mind was a bit silly to put into words...let me know if I did okay, alright?  
__I take some delight in making Gomora's music-of-choice death metal (you'll learn about his liking to it later), for the simple fact that most people seem to know very little about it. Though none of the bands nor the lyrics consciously that I created in this chapter pertain or belong to any non-fictional group, you get a basic idea of what death metal is all about – noise, violence, and trying to make you sick to your stomach. The fictional band Manotaur Skull is most likely an extraterrestrial rendition of the real-life band Cannibal Corpse. I urge anybody with a liking or interest in death metal to check out Corpse, Six Feet Under, or Morbid Angel (the fictional groups Killer Trog and Nox Draconus may pertain to the heavy and black metal genres; I recommend Children of Bodom and Cradle of Filth). Other music-wise-related subjects include the fictional "pop diva" 'Yentirb Areliuga' – forgive me for having done so, but she was created by spelling 'Britney' and 'Aguilera' (yes, I know they're two different people) backwards – sorry to fans of their music.  
__Thank-you to all who took the time to R&R my last chapter – I'll work hard again to try and get the next one up ASAP.  
__See y'all again soon!)_

_(PS: I do not own Cannibal Corpse, Six Feet Under, Morbid Angel, Children of Bodom, Cradle of Filth, a band named Gomora, Britney Spears, or Christina Aguilera – that might be considered slavery, or at least unjust indenturement)_


	12. Brokesword Skytopper

(_A/N: greetings, readers - welcome to what I feel is the strangest chapter_ (so far) _of this entire fic. Please read on - and note my words of chapter-epilogue at the end_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 12

* * *

Niki awoke the next morning with the sun in his face and Gomora sitting across from him, at the other end of the couch.  
Niki's mind immediately returned to the previous night, and he noticed, with some curiosity, that Gomora didn't seem the least bit hung over; on the contrary: he looked bright and awake, and smiled when he saw Niki open his eyes. 

"Good morning!", he greeted cheerfully, looking ever so vibrant in the morning light.  
"How'd ya sleep?"

Nikita, who felt about as much awake as a lame foot, expelled a small groan and closed his eyes, giving one last attempt at hoping everything to be dream.

"That bad?", he heard Gomora say, assuring him that it wasn't a dream at all.

Oddly enough, he felt, he was surprised to find himself feeling less poignant than the night before (though he wasn't at all yet content)…and in his subelation, he figured there was need to show at least a little of (what he knew of) courteousness, so he raised himself into a sitting position with a small grunt.

"…Fine…", he replied, somewhat groggily, and rubbed his eyes with one hand.

"You weren't cold?", Gomora asked.

Niki shook his head, knowing that Gomora thought him oblivious to their nightly 'encounter'.

"Well, that's great", Gomora replied to the gesture, his smile becoming a bit wider.  
"Speaking of which, I made you some breakfast…you hungry?"

Niki had to hold back a grimace: he hadn't eaten breakfast more than a few times whilst in the lab, and even less while in the pouf; it made him feel nauseous. Still, he continued to feel the odd need to accommodate his host's feelings, and he figured that Gomora would probably be disappointed if he refused the friendly gesture.

"Yes…thank you."

"Great! Great!", Gomora enthused, jumping up and hurrying off in the direction of the kitchen.  
"I made it myself! Just a second!"

Niki didn't bother to look after him; instead, he drew his knees up and rested his forehead in his hands, groaning again. He hadn't slept properly the night before, and even now, he didn't feel very well rested. His sleep had been dreamless, much to his relief; he didn't feel like being subjected to anything his subconscious mind could conjure.  
There was a clatter, and Gomora reappeared, skipping into the living room, carrying a tray that held the aforementioned breakfast.

"Did I tell you that I made it myself?", he asked, plunking it down on the glass table in front of Niki.  
"I considered just making you one of instant-meals, but then again, none of them are really meant for breakfast, and, well…plastic-food isn't very…oh, you know what I mean, don'tcha'?"

Niki didn't know and said nothing, but stared at his plate: a large, crunchy-brown crepe lay as the base, upon which lay two orange, fried dudandle eggs, a thick strip of bacon, barliberries, and parsley – all arranged into a large, silly-looking smiley-face. Niki felt like vomiting.  
…Still, he once more appreciated Gomora's attempts at kindness.

"…Not your favorite?", Gomora asked him anxiously, standing by the table for a verdict.

"Oh…it's fine", Niki covered, pulling a small piece of crepe off of its edge and putting it into his mouth.  
"…I usually don't have a big appetite in the morning…"

"Oh, I understand!", Gomora insisted.  
"I'm not too much of a morning-person myself, and usually, I just drink a malt, myself…I just thought you might be hungry; you didn't eat much yesterday."

"…Thank you."

Niki chewed the slick crisp in mouth before swallowing it; it didn't taste too bad, he thought, besides being a bit greasy. He picked up a barliberry between his fingers and commenced to chew it; its sour tang flicted his sleepy tongue like an acid.

"Anywho, I was thinking…", Gomora was saying, having sat down on the edge of the table and crossed his legs.  
"…before yesterday, I was thinking about going out, tonight - well, I'm thinking about it now, too…just a fun little place I go to every weekend…"

Niki said nothing, but kept his sleepy eyes on Gomora as he talked, chewing a niblet of bacon between his front teeth; he had the feeling that he was going to be invited to some place.

"…it's a really nice place; a disco, really – I know the manager…", Gomora went on, twiddling his clawed thumbs in his lap.  
"…_aaand_…I was wondering if you…might…want to go with me…yeah…"

Gomora was almost sweating as he said this, as though he feared Nikita's response to his invitation as much as he obviously wanted him to agree.  
Niki could've laughed out loud, in the driest sense imaginable.

"_That's just wonderful_", he thought to himself, sarcastically.  
"_Mel's gone for less than a day, and already I'm being asked out. Just fucking wonderful_."

Niki looked down as he thought this, afraid that his disdain would show on his face, but as he looked up, he caught sight of Gomora's anxious, longing face and his remarkably-brown, puppy-dog eyes that seemed to be out-of-place on somebody who wore a mohawk.  
Niki still didn't know what his ambition was; if Gomora had wanted sex from him, he could've easily gotten it. Though, he was obviously interested in him; Niki faintly considered Gomora actually wanting a relationship with him, but he dropped the notion from his mind almost immediately – it made him feel uneasy. Thinking of leaving Gomora and his apartment wasn't as inflicting of a thought, but neither did it satisfy Niki. He didn't like the idea of staying in this apartment all day long, and going out…well, at least, he considered, he'd be getting some fresh air, and might even be able to take his mind off of things in the aforementioned disco (he doubted it, though: he didn't like loud music), of which Gomora claimed to know the manager.  
Niki raised his eyes to meet Gomora's, and he shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"Sure…why not?", he answered meekly, not yet knowing why he was agreeing.

Once more, Gomora's face lit up in a near-abnormal display of joy that actually seemed more gratitude than satisfaction or fulfillment.

"That's great! Great!", he exclaimed, jumping up with such gusto that he sent Niki's plate clattering; Niki hasted back to avoid being splattered.

* * *

With a date set for the evening, the most of the day went by for Niki like monotone, with Gomora continuing to spew glory-laced adventure-tales of his own supposed experiences, which were steadily becoming more and more ridiculous (Niki, as far as he might stretch his imagination, couldn't believe that Gomora actually had fired the deciding shot in the Regdon/Galactic Alliance scuffle) (it had occurred years before the 300-series of Experiments had been configured). Niki eventually stopped listening, and only leaned back as he watched Gomora enunciate, and wondered whether all of this talk was that of someone wanting to impress or that of a narcissist. He didn't know why he continued to look forward to the evening – after all, why would anybody want to engage in something they weren't interested in…like discoing? He didn't know, aside from having something to look forward to; he really didn't feel like listening to Gomora nonstop, whose voice had turned into an irritating buzz. He felt that his own drops in attentiveness were becoming less subtle and, nearly rude, and wondered if Gomora even noticed it. In a way, Niki felt sad about it – to be with someone who didn't care, seemed to intend to care, but only talked and talked about himself…perhaps it was true that Gomora, like Niki, figured that any other attempt to pass the time would risk being awkward, and with Gomora's obvious imagination, perhaps it was easy for him to keep talking, even if it all was a loud of nonsense.  
Niki sighed to himself often, in response to his unhappiness. He speculated on what he and Mel might've been doing – perhaps they'd still be riding on the bus, dozing on eachother's shoulders…  
Niki wiped away a dry tear and decided to pay a bit more attention to Gomora, to take his mind off of things.  
He looked up, and only now realized that he was within the grey walls of Gomora's bedroom. He looked around, and only saw his crimson comrade as he dropped from the wall, holding the long, tasseled sword in his hand.

"…Have you been listening to me?", Gomora asked him as he approached him, holding his weapon horizontally at his side.

"Uh…", Niki replied hurriedly, embarrassed as he crammed his short-term memory for a word or two regarding Gomora's previous sentences.  
"…the roof…?"

"Yeah, that's right", the buff Experiment replied, as he switched his hold on the sword so to hold it in front of him like a staff.  
"You wanna go?"

"…To the roof?"

"Yeah – to watch me practice?"

"On the roof?"

"The top of the building, where the satellites are."

"To watch you practice?"

"Yeah."

"…Are we allowed up there?"

"Who cares? – I've been going up there for almost two years to work on my moves."

"…How do we get there?"

Gomora grinned as Niki asked this, leaving the latter to further wonder about what Gomora had been telling him about for the last minute (or hour, for all his memory served him).  
Gomora led Niki out of the bedroom and into the living room. Moving swiftly, and still keeping a hold on his sword, he jumped up onto the couch and threw open one of the round windows that lay behind and above it, immediately ushering in a whoosh of cool air.

"Well, I prefer climbing straight to the top", Gomora answered, grinning.  
"Then again, there's also the elevator…"

Niki stared for a moment – he wondered whether he was right in thinking that Gomora was offering him a swordplay rendition on the rooftop of a 1500-story building, and that they were to get there by climbing at least 200 stories to the top. This was crazy.

"I can't climb on walls", he answered quickly, honestly, for the most part.

"I could carry you on my back", Gomora offered.

Niki said nothing for a moment, and only stared. He figured that Gomora's apartment had to be at least three thousand meters up, and he wasn't sure whether or not he could comprehend neither the thought nor the experience of being piggy-backed up the side of a cloud-touching building.  
He decided that Gomora was crazy – perhaps not do so, but because he expected Niki to go along with it.

"Uh…I think I'll have to pass", he managed after a moment.

Gomora's face fell considerably; he looked disappointed enough to fall off of his perch on the couch and out the window.

"…But I promise I won't let you fall."

"No, thank you."

Gomora looked crestfallen: his sword lay slack in his grip, and the Experiment was seemingly blushing a shade of disappointment and embarrassment.

"…Uhh…"

Niki had no idea how that face had managed to make him feel guilty, but he decided to try to save the situation before he had disappointed Gomora to tears.

"…But I can take the elevator up to the roof, instead", he suggested, hoping this might quell his comrade's disappointment.  
"I'll take the elevator…I'd like to see you at your practice."

Gomora, as expected, grinned anew at this, though he still seemed dejected at being rejected of moving his new friend into a life-dangling situation…and still a bit embarrassed.

"Okay…okay…", he replied – for the first time, timidly.

He pointed towards the door.

"The elevator…all the way up. Try and not…well, let anybody see you going all the way up…the only person who's to be on the roof is the guy who maintains the satellites."

Niki nodded…and a moment of awkward silence followed, with Niki not knowing whether to look at his host, and Gomora staring at the floor.

"…So…", said Niki after a moment, as he and Gomora looked back at eachother simultaneously.  
"Should I get looking for that elevator?"

"Yeah…yes, why don't you", Gomora said, attempting to regain some composure by re-gripping his sword.  
"Yeah…I'll meet you on the roof, then?"

"Sure."

Feeling stupid as he turned, Niki walked towards the apartment's exit, sensing Gomora continuing to awkwardly watch him. It was only when he reached the door and prepared to jump up to reach the panel that he heard any movement from behind him. Niki turned around to see Gomora take a two-step jump from the couch out of the window. For one awful moment, Niki thought that he was watching Gomora leap to his death, but his agile host, displaying the near-impossible agility known only to Experiments, turned his leap into a backwards-salto and disappeared above the window's opening. A second later, a red-furred foot kicked the window closed, and had it not been, Niki would've commenced to hearing the rapid skittering of Gomora scaling the side of the building as he had promised.

Shaking his head in exasperation and disbelief, Niki managed the jump and the door opened. He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind himself. He turned in the direction of the elevator, and spotted a chatting pair of dog-faced Bonjians a few meters apart from himself, apparently not having noticed his entrance into the corridor. Niki grimaced at the prospect of venturing past these two strangers in an otherwise-deserted highway; it wasn't much unlike walking past a girl prostitute back at the pouf while Mel wasn't around. Stiffly, and making an obvious effort not to look at the faces of the strangers, he walked by them, close to the wall, hoping that he was only imagining the penetrating feeling of them staring at him. He was sure that they had stopped talking…and what other reason than to look at the short-and-furry new arrival?  
Niki had never felt so eager before in his life to get into an elevator, and he felt blessed that the control panel was in reaching distance. The doors closed behind him, and he hoped that it wasn't visible from the outside to which floor he was headed.

* * *

It was after what seemed like minutes that the elevator doors opened up into blinding light and a burst of wind that caused Niki to cover his face with his arms. The sky-top level violently exposed him to the barest regions of the habitable atmosphere, and for a moment, Niki lingered on cowering down in the corner.  
It was colder up on the roof top, closer to the sun, than it was down below on the streets. A gust blew there that the pedestrians on the ground couldn't feel. If Niki had squinted at the right angle at the sun, he even would've been able to notice the translucent glint of the iced nitrogen that helped create the planet's artificial atmosphere.  
Hugging his arms, Niki dared a step outside of the elevator and onto the roof top, feeling actual concrete under his feet instead of the elevator's plushy inlaid-carpet.

"Hey, you made it!"

Though he wouldn't have under other circumstances, the peach-colored Experiment gave a small cry and jumped at Gomora's invading voice, which, it seemed at the time, was yet another unwelcome addition in this strange new environment. Niki turned, and found Gomora leaning against the grey frame of the elevator entrance; all unsureness and humiliation from just two minutes ago seemed to have left his face, in exchange of a usual swagger and suave.

"Didn't mean to scare you", he chuckled, pushing off his lean as the elevator door closed.  
"So, what do you think of this place? Amazing, ain't it?"

Niki looked around at the wide, squared platformed, bedecked with numerous tall, shiny satellite dishes and antennas, all pointing in different directions; the spaced was boundered with a five-foot concrete enclosure that spanned the roof's perimeter, obviously meant to keep satellite-workers from falling, should they ever feel the need to venture far away from their skyward objectives. The clouds overhead seemed closer than Niki had ever seen them, though the sky itself, seemingly a usual dulled blue from the streets below, appeared quite grey from up close. Niki also noted that this skyscraper must've been the tallest in the district: he couldn't see any of equal height for a long ways around. All of these things, perceived at once, didn't do much to comfort him.

"…It's kind of cold up here", he answered, quietly.

"Oh, you get used to it", replied Gomora, who had started to twirl his still-sheathed sword between his fingers.  
"Anyway, aside from the wind, this is just about the quietest place outside; you can't even hear the cars from below. The first time I came up here, I was kinda scared, too – thought that the building was too tall and too rigid to hold up, and that it'd take to falling like a stack of tiles if the wind got too strong."

"…Can that happen?"

"Naw; this entire place is as sturdy as a rock. Wanna take a look over the side?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh, you're no fun – why not?"

"I think I'd throw up."

"Well, maybe you'd hit someone you didn't like on the street, huh?"

"Hmm…"

Gomora tried to hold a grin, but seeing that Nikita wasn't truly getting into the experience, he unsheathed his sword audibly, catching the smaller Experiment's attention.

"This…", he began importantly, holding the sword by its hilt in front of him and its sheathe by his side.  
"…is a beauty."

He gripped the black-laced handle of weapon tightly for a moment, then twirled it quickly twice in one hand, causing the blade to shine in the light as though it itself was wrought of pure luminosity, and moving Niki to take a small step back.  
Glad to have his guest's undivided attention, Gomora set the sheathe carefully down on the floor beside him, and removed the blade's long tassel by way of a small peg by which it was attached.

"Three kilos of edelsteel max, measuring 1.4 meters from the tip of the blade to the handle's end, untasseled", he recited, smirking in proudly knowing so much about his possession.  
"A jadewood handle with a silk-spun tassel embroidered with the Lunagun mark. Blade and handle carved on the Zy moon, and the tassel's silk all the way from Maigon. Custom-made. Flawlessly-balanced."

"Whoa…", ooohed Niki, who, despite not having an interest in weapons, eyed the sword with a combination of surprise and wonder.  
"…What did it cost you?"

The smirk on Gomora's face was quickly replaced with a look of disgruntlement, as though Niki had asked a question he didn't want to answer.

"…Well, it was an investment", he managed, after a while.  
"It's all to do with my work…well, no, not like that, but…I saved my money, and…well, a dying trade, this sword comes from, and the smith kinda gave me a discount. As a matter-of-fact, this old Zyan claimed that it was going to be the last sword that he ever would make…and that it was going to be his finest."

Gomora held the blade in front of his face, and gingerly traced his finger over its backside.

"…_And I don't believe he was kidding_…", he added in a whisper.

"Why'd you want a sword?...and one so expensive", Niki asked.

Gomora shrugged his hefty shoulders, as he continued eyeing his prize.

"I've always liked swords", he answered.  
"Never could get one back at the lab, but I'd take a pool stick and take it to some of the guys who I didn't like. I was good at it by the time the raid happened, and I started practicing and studying on it more than ever on my joyriding. Once I got settled here, and started making some honest money, I thought 'what the Hell – why not go for the best?'"

Niki, who didn't notice that the sides of his mouth were showing signs of actual amusement, nodded understandingly (even though he really didn't – swords weren't his personal specialty, after all).

"So what do you do with it?"

"Discuss my rent with the manager."

"…Really?"

"No, of course not. Mainly, I just have fun with it – studying different styles, and whatnot, and trying them out…I'm not bad at ninjutsu and two-handling."

He took the sword into one hand, and swished it gently through the air once, before turning back to Nikita, grinning.

"Wanna see some?"

Nikita, in response, took several steps backwards before nodding, eagerly.  
Gomora grinned, and slowly sank down onto his haunches. He retrieved the sheathe and stood back up, sheathing his sword as he did so. Nikita looked on questioningly as Gomora turned his side towards Nikita, looking ahead of himself as he let his left hand holding the sheathed sword fall to his hip-level.

"You watch, now", he told Niki, not turning his head as he stared ahead.  
"I'm gonna start off a bit traditionally…then go into a bit of freestyle, okay?"

"…Sure", Niki replied, not knowing what to expect.

Gomora gave a small nod, and his eyes focused on an imaginary opponent in front of himself. His eyes narrowed as he stood straight, his expression almost a grimace.  
A split second later, almost faster than Niki could follow, Gomora drew his sword with his right hand and let the sheathe fall to the ground. His hands and sword snapped into a basic stance, as he held the weapon before him at an angle. Quick once more, he two-stepped forward as he handled his blade in a halfwise-stirring strike, arriving back in his original position. He repeated the fast strike, though stirring his sword in the opposite direction this time. He moved another three steps forward as he delivered two head-level strikes at his unseen enemy, before rushing forth again to swipe, in a spinning-motion, at the unfortunate's chest and shins. Another attacker seemed to come from behind, and Gomora spun around and slashed at the air, still gripping the sword's handle with both hands. He jabbed distractingly once before parrying a downwards-strike upwards and thrusting his sword forward to impale the air.  
He sank back into a crouched position momentarily before vaulting into a tremendous vaulting three-flip backflip that seemed to carry him into the sun. He landed atop of the unmoving satellite dishes instead, but ricocheted off of it in a corkscrew-dive which he landed in a slicing strike, landing in a starfish-position of balancing on one hand and foot on the ground.

Awed, surprised, and quaked by this display was Niki, who had been sure that Gomora was more talk than walk when he had spoken of swordfighting. Forgetting that an Experiment of Gomora's bulk didn't look the overly-agile type, Niki had but time to blink before Gomora sprang back up, only to land on his hands as he held his sword's hilt between his feet. He begin spinning around in what resembled a sharp-edged, close-legged break-dance, though quickly becoming a tornado of shining, swishing blades as the crimson Experiment returned to his feet and began swishing, slashing, and striking in all directions around him. The blade seemed to bend with his movements, becoming part of his appendage as he wielded it beyond professionally: without error. It was almost frightening to see how this day's-worth stranger handled this technologically-outdated weapon; how he turned it into the most intimidating display of balance, agility, and coordination that Niki had ever seen in his life.

Obviously catching the awedness evident in Nikita's face, Gomora progressed his display: stopping the tornado of motion on a coin, his sword raised above his head, and he brought it down with all of the power and determination to slice his unseen enemy right down the middle. Without pausing, he made a renewed massive backwards-flip that might've propelled him out of the planet's orbit. This time, however, there was no decline or fall in his lunge, as he pulled his compact body into a sphere, gripping his sword so that its blade extended from his curled form like a ball-headed scythe. Then, in an impossible motion of athleticism or levitation, Gomora's spinning became more rapid than Niki's eyes could follow, and the red Experiment became a spinning sphere of blades, staying alift as he circled and zigzagged his vicinity of the rooftop like an uncoordinated boomerang, weaving between satellites with unprecedented acuity for such a seemingly uncontrolled mass of mayhem. As he did so, a tremendous swishing noise resounded about his vicinity, as unnerving as the up-close buzzing of insects. He spun and flew behind satellite after satellite, leaving Niki feeling disoriented, and as though he were being circled…or even hunted. His head spun this way and that, as the swishing sound seemed to insurrect from logic and come from all directions, as though Gomora had divided himself ten-fold to encircle Niki, high upon the rooftop.

All of the sudden, the swishing stopped, and Niki untensed just a bit. Now the unfriendly blowing of the wind, so subliminal during Gomora's demonstration, now seemed to return in eerie presence, signaling none of Gomora's presence anywhere near.  
Niki began feeling unnerved; he had agreed to witness a swordplay demonstration, but hide-and-seek was outside of the bargain.

"Hey, Gomora?", he called out, meekly, feeling his voice opposed by the wind.  
"Hey…where are you?...hey, don't play games, okay?..."

Silence followed.  
Niki, who was quickly beginning to feel too creeped-out to remain up alone on the rooftop, began backing away towards the elevator, favoring even it over the wary seclusion.

"So! – what'dya think?"

A yelp of fright went up into the atmosphered as Niki made an impressive jump himself, spinning around – and falling down as he did so – to face Gomora, who was found perched atop of the elevator booth.

"_Don't DO that!_", Niki had shouted, even before Gomora had the chance to look horrified at his accidental frightening of his guest.  
"_Don't you EVER do that again!_"

Niki's shouts broke the air anew, and, directed at Gomora, they penetrated him and sent a terrible, visible shock through him, unlike any effect that Nikita had ever had on him. In fact, he almost completely lost his balance on the edge of the booth that he sat on, causing him to take an unwanted and clumsy drop to the concrete floor. He straightened up, but with no hint of grace or eloquence. He had let his proud sword fall from his hand, and now stood there, looking as though he had caused something terrible which he didn't know how to reprimand.  
Niki didn't like this look – this stupid, helpless stare from somebody who had done him wrong, but now knew not what to do. He hated Gomora at this moment, for reasons he didn't know, but shouldn't be there, for he didn't want to hold any feelings for him…none as potent as this.  
As he watched Gomora still looking at him and starting to stammer, he noticed a glint of a glare in his own right eye, blurring Gomora in front of him with the glare of the sun, which had just begun to peak out from behind the grey blanket of the atmosphere, and was shining off of one of the many satellite.  
Nikita blinked quickly and turned away, furious at himself for shedding a tear.

"I'm…I'm sorry", Gomora finally managed, taking an unsure step towards the floored Experiment.  
"I really didn't mean to scare you like that…"

Niki sourly wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and sniffed unacceptingly.

"That was…really, really mean of you", he replied, unable to think of any greater retort.

Gomora, continuing to look more pained than ever, sank softly down onto his knees, as if rendering himself to Niki's height may have some positive affect.

"I'm so sorry…Nikita", he pleaded, his comrade's name slipping out at the end, as though unintentional.  
"I was just showing off; I'm so stupid…but I really didn't mean it; please believe me…"

The hardest part for Niki was that he did believe it…and figured that he knew Gomora enough by now to believe that he wouldn't play (what he would call) a friendly trick on someone unless he liked that someone…in any way.  
He felt angry for a lot of reasons, the least of which contained Gomora – he felt angry because he had allowed himself to feel afraid and because he had allowed himself to shed an unhidden tear…because he still felt alone, and because he had yet to recognize any hope or goodness for him left in the universe, that might coerce him into wanting to keep living.  
Above all, he felt angry because he did feel angry; he had hoped, by now, in some way, to be beyond shedding tears, feeling afraid, and feel anger.  
He looked up at Gomora, and sighed at the pained face.

"…It's okay", he half-lied, putting a hand to his forehead.  
"I know you didn't mean it…"

Gomora gave a hopeful nod of his head, and quickly stood up and moved over to Niki's side.

"Can I help you up?"

In submission, Niki sighed once more and raised his arm, and allowed Gomora to take his hand in both of his own and pull him swiftly to his feet.

"I'm still sorry…", the bigger Experiment stated softly, as he brushed dust that wasn't there off of Niki's back and shoulders.  
"Man…I can be such an idiot, huh?"

Niki chose not to answer, but tried to straighten his wrinkled slacks and vest.

"Seriously – anything you want at the club tonight: it's on me, okay?", Gomora insisted.  
"Really, it's the least that I can do."

"Thank you."

"Shoot, I'm the one who's sorry – did you hurt yourself falling down?"

"No."

"Maybe you scratched yourself?"

"I'm fine…seriously."

"Okay, okay…sorry."

"Accepted."

And the two of them stepped back into the elevator booth, with Niki wondering in the back of his mind why anybody would bother learning martial arts to sneak up on people and kill them.

* * *

Niki couldn't remember how they had spent the remainder of the day together in Gomora's apartment – only that Gomora seemed temporarily 'taken down a notch', as he remained less boisterous than the day before. He remembered eating bit of something at Gomora's urging. Beyond that, all he could remember was getting into Gomora's car, and his new host driving the two of them in the direction of the disco that Gomora had spent so much time telling him about.

"You'll like this place – promise", Gomora tried to assure him as they drove.  
"I'll tell you, I've combed this section of the city for good clubs over the first year I was here, and I tell you – this one's the best there is, by far. Not the biggest place, but the funnest. I met my best friends there. It's a really great place."

Nikita, however, aside from not being enthralled by the idea of going to any club, was wary about the idea of what kind of a place Gomora might recreate at.

"What kind of music do they play there?", he asked, suspecting the answer.

Gomora shrugged.

"Oh, this and that", he answered.  
"Electronic stuff, mainly – dance, trance, dream, techno. Some popular stuff off of the charts, some of that rap-crap…above all, stuff you can dance to. If the DJ's sure about it, he'll let some people do some karaoke. Oh, the DJ's a great guy, too – you'll know all about him after tonight. I've met him, y'know."

Niki didn't say that he figured so; he leaned back into the seat, tried to push the slushing, gushing sounds of Gomora's _Sewer Flesh_ CD out of his ears as he watched the lights of passing cars moved beside and over them in the evening's darkness, as though they were all part of a giant, neon convoy system.  
Niki was dressed as he had been two nights ago, in his plain slacks and vest. Gomora – who was 'dressed-up' in dark, zippered pants and a sleeveless meshed shirt – had offered that Niki wear some of his clothes, but the peach-colored Experiment had declined without even looking; aside from predicting that any clothes that Gomora possessed would be either too big or too tasteless for him, Niki viewed the idea of sharing clothes between any two people with a foreign eye: for two years, he lived with the knowing that the only real possessions that belonged to him were the clothes that he wore. Even Mel had seemed to forward this belief, as he would buy pants and vests for Niki whenever he needed them…but had never really offered to share his own colorful garments.  
Niki tried not think of Mel, and was relieved that Gomora had found no need to mourn in Niki's clothes-sharing rejection.

They drove on for several minutes in a near-straight path, and Niki observed the height of the buildings as they gradually declined, until they entered into an area where skyscrapers were exempt, and less traffic flowed. These buildings, though brightly lit inside, seemed less lifeful than the inner city; a sense of seclusion hung around the area: this was a part of the city that hadn't managed to grow as those around it.  
In there, Gomora commenced to maneuver around the streets, turning around building after building as he lowered the cruiser onto street-level. Niki was figuring that they must be close to their destination when they turned the corner of a building and came upon the sight of another, which was lit-up like none other, in neon lights and a distant music. Niki eyed this lively, curious place with interest, and didn't feel the need to ask if this was their stop. Gomora pulled the cruiser into a nearby parking-lot and settled it onto the ground, where it eased like an exhausted animal.

"We're here!", Gomora announced, as he opened both doors with the push of a button.

The Experiment pair stepped out, Gomora doing so with greater anticipation than Nikita. The former walked around the vehicle to lead Niki out of the parking lot and towards the neon-lit building, as the music became more pronounced with each step. As they neared this place, two things became apart to Nikita, who walked closer to Gomora in the semi-darkness than he usually might: the first he noticed was the bright, neon-green sign above the place's entrance, which read '_Nebular's Secret Arena_' (odd, he thought, because he had never heard such a name), and the second a good-sized group of people, standing behind a wide metal crowd-gate that stood across the street from the lively place. As Niki and Gomora got closer, Niki became aware that they were yelling things in the direction of the lighted building…or, better yet, at the people who were entering it. As they neared, not only did the music (a succession of synthesizing and techno-beats), but so did the shouts of the gate-bound people.

"…_AIDS-rotten, diseased faggots!_""

"_Get back in your damn closet!_"

"_Burn in Hell, you sick cocksuckers!_"

"_Thank God for AIDS!_"

Niki stopped in footsteps, and Gomora continued walking a few paces before he realized that his comrade had stopped following him.

"…What is this?", Niki asked him, confused and serious at the same time, once Gomora had retraced his steps.

Gomora looked over his shoulder at the cursing crowd and shrugged.

"Oh, just some people", he answered casually.  
"Various religious groups, assorted right-wing-fanatics, and some others with too much time on their hands."

Niki remained confused.

"…But who are they yelling at?"

Gomora looked over his shoulder again, and turned back to Niki, jerking his thumb back.

"Right now, it's those two."

Niki looked, and saw what appeared to be two eccentrically-dressed Uavalians approaching the building's doorway, attracting the shouts of the onlookers before they entered out of sight, ducking into the entrance as though it were some sort of safe haven.

"Generally, it's anybody going in or out of there", he said, matter-of-factly.

"…Why?", Niki asked, looking vain.

"Well…", Gomora answered slowly, speaking as though the answer were obvious.  
"…they probably don't like gay guys…or girls."

Niki grasped the fact.

"Gomora…is this a gay place?"

Gomora snorted in stifled laughter as Niki said this, and had to wipe his mouth before he answered.

"Well, now that you think of it…", he began in an amused voice, but quieting himself when he saw Niki's still-unclear face.  
"…not officially…but gay people tend to come here, mostly…couples, singles…the end of the week's always busy, and that's the time when I usually come here."

"…Are you gay, Gomora?"

The crimson Experiment's eyes showed surprise as Niki asked him this, as though he had been blindsided in a vulnerable area, and didn't know what to do about it.

"…What do you mean?", he asked after a while, slowly putting his hands behind his back.

"Are you gay?", Niki asked again, not quite realizing how on the offensive he was being.

Gomora bit his lower lip. He coughed, and looked up at the sky. The discomfort that this question imposed upon him was obvious, but Nikita didn't falter, and remained staring at Gomora with serious eyes.

"…Would it matter at all?", Gomora asked, after another while's elapse.  
"I mean…why do you ask?"

"Because you said that you come here."

"…So?"

"Are you?"

Gomora's fists clenched, and Niki could tell that he was quickly becoming frustrated. For a moment, he was sure that Gomora would turn around and stomp away to leave him all alone…but, to his relief, Gomora's fists unclenched and he sighed, almost in defeat. Before Niki could attempt to repeal his question, Gomora answered.

"…I don't call myself anything", he said, slowly.  
"…I don't judge, or live my life by any standards or expectations, or any of that, 'cause I think that's stupid. I like everybody who I like, I guess…not much experience…but…uh…yes, I guess…I like guys…a bit…weird, huh?"

Weirder was seeing Gomora, big and tough, felled by a question. True, Niki decided, he was very forceful in his asking, but Gomora was twice his size, listened to death metal, and was a master at the sword…and he was taken down by a question ("weird, huh?").  
Worse yet, in Niki's mind, was the true-told revelation that Gomora liked guys (which coincided perfectly with the magazines and the porno-channels)…which seemed to confirm to Niki that he did indeed like him (Niki) _that_ way, and that he was interested in him – _that_ way.  
Niki felt odd, at the same time, for feeling dismayed that someone he knew was gay…but having it be Gomora made him nervous and unedged. It confirmed his fears.

"I'm not going to have sex with you!"

It had slipped out before Niki could stop himself.  
Such a stupid and paranoid statement it was, Niki knew, to say to someone after finding out that they're gay…;  
"_But DAMN! – that's a ticket to any damn thing that he had in mind! Oh, this just gets better and better_…"

Gomora regarded Niki's retort with more disappointment than anything else – not at the prospect of the law of Niki's words, but perhaps that once more he had done something (regardless that he didn't know what) to displease Niki.

"…Oh…", he quietly replied.  
"…Well…I figured…didn't…I…yeah…yeah, yes…okay."

They stood facing eachother, mute, unstable, but eye-locked, as each tried to convey some sort of retinal apology, but these two apologies collided midway and reached truly neither, and the two were left standing to the nearby chant of;  
"_Fags burn in Hell!_ _Fags burn in Hell!"_

"…Still wanna go?", Gomora asked a short while later, his voice quiet.

Niki felt sorry for what he had said, and he felt sick to his stomach for the situation. He felt even worse at the idea of going to a loud, public place now…but his conscience, so long dormant and unnecessary, persisted through his stomach and the rising feeling in his throat, and he nodded softly.

"…Yes…let's go."

Gomora nodded, and motioned for Niki to stay close as they continued moving.  
Gomora led him in a long detour around the jeering crowd and across the street. As they walked down the opposite sidewalk in the direction, Niki dared to cut his eyes in the direction of the shouting onlookers…and found them more threatening than ever. From the front, he spied a crowd composed of species of all shapes and sizes, of all colors and hides…yet what bound this group together was the unmistakable hate that told from their eyes, and the purest aura of animosity that generated from them. Their cacophony of voices, spewing the foulest of insults, became the counterpart of the beating music – as threatening as anything one might be able to imagine. It was now that Niki remained close to Gomora, genuinely afraid to leave his side.  
Gomora led him up to the entrance of the club, seemingly in complete ignorance of the heckling onlookers. The music was now louder and more reverberant than ever. It was really starting to irritate Niki (although he was sure that he preferred this place to the street), but as he looked around towards the entrance, he found himself and Gomora faced by a monstrous pair of tree-trunk legs. Looking up, Niki saw into the distant face of a massive Erephan whom he hadn't noticed before from across the street, despite that he was close to four meters tall. Gomora, obviously no stranger to him, stepped up and patted one of the boot-covered shins to get the creature's attention.

"Hey, Zeph!", he greeted in a loud voice, trying to override the music.

The Erephan, clothed in rough black leather, looked down, over his folded arms, and smiled at his crimson visitor.

"Gomora – what's happening?", he replied, his voice deep and scratchy.

"Oh, this and that – you know how it is", Gomora answered.  
"Are these nuts giving you any trouble tonight?"

"Oh, not since last week", Zeph answered, knicking his head in the rally's direction.  
"We can't stop them if they're on the other side of the street, behind the grate, but if they come over here, I can throw them over onto the next avenue."

"How long've they been here?"

"All night. Neb turned up the volume just because've 'em."

"Well, I know you'll keep 'em at bay…hey, have you met my friend?"

Gomora put a hand behind Niki's back and pushed him forward for Zeph the Erephan to see. As Zeph did, there shown some notable surprise in his face.

"Whoa", was his first word, not necessarily directed at Niki.  
"First time I've ever seen another one of you, Gomora."

Niki didn't know what to say, but to say anything at the moment seemed unnecessary, because Zeph was looking over his head and at Gomora.

"Say…", he began to inquire, with a bit of a smirk.  
"…are you…_close friends_, hmm?"

Niki blushed unavoidably, and even Gomora looked somewhat embarrassed as he scoffed in retort.

"Oh, keep doing your work, ya bouncer, and leave people to their own business", he said, awkwardly.

He reached into the pocket of his pants and produced his wallet, fumbling to keep from looking back up at Zeph.

"…What's the credit, huh?", he asked, in a monotone.

"On whom?", asked Zeph.

Gomora inclined his head in Niki's direction, who looked the other way in response, feeling more embarrassed now that Gomora had taken him out on his credit.  
The Erephan chuckled and shook his head.

"No, no – that's okay", he assured the two of them.  
"If he's your boyfriend, he can ride your clearance with you; you two go right on in."

Gomora paled at Zeph saying the word 'boyfriend', and for a moment, he seemed to freeze in response to the word. He didn't protest the clearance, though, and quietly took Niki by the wrist to lead him inside, with the tan Experiment feeling as embarrassed as ever for working on another individual's money…just as he had felt whenever Mel had spent his money on him.  
The two of them stepped through the tall doorway, onto the long threshold, the music domineering until it completely drowned out the shouted insults from the outside. Gomora let go of Niki's wrist after they had stepped inside, but in this unexpected darkness, the smaller Experiment felt that he would've been quite content with a bit more guidance. He felt somebody move by them in the opposite direction, but it was too dark to see. The music was now greater than ever, so loud, that Niki felt a case of the shivers cross over his back as he continued to step closely being Gomora – just how long _was_ this passage?  
Just then, in front of him, Gomora pushed aside a curtain, and Niki was suddenly showered with a spell of neon lights that danced and zigzagged around – pink, green, and yellow.

"Welcome!", Gomora announced, pulling forth the curtain to admit Niki into what was, without doubt, the most radical place that the peach-colored Experiment had ever set foot in.

The room he faced was huge and dimly-lit (in presence of the neon rays that flashed from the ceiling), and filled with enough moving creatures to remind Niki of the lab's mess hall during lunchtime.  
A large, rectangular dancefloor, composed of dozens of lighted squares, contained what appeared to be the majority of the room's occupants – individuals of a great diversity of creatures danced upon the color-switching panels, in beat to the buoyant, electronic composition that generated from seemingly all corners of the room. This dancefloor lay in front of what Niki guessed was an extensive bar, equipped with plenty of chairs, and currently darkened by the showlighting. Laughter and the occasional party-cry were heard among the cacophony of noises coming from the dancefloor, where the lively mass moved as one. Every third participant's clothes were glow-enabled and blazed neon in the dark, creating an exotic melting-pot of dancers.  
Niki would've been fine to look on a bit more, but Gomora had nudged him gently in his side, and was now leading him around the boundaries of the dancefloor. On the westside of the room, Niki now saw, was a long line of tables, each surrounded by their own half-circle of plushed seating. Gomora, his fur appearing almost black and his eyes alight in the neon, led Niki along this procession of tables, in the direction of a table that he appeared to have marked. It was so dark that Niki could hardly see where he was being led…but as his guide seemed to close in on a table, he was surprised to hear Gomora call out to someone.

"Hey! Argo! Aries! Is that you two over there?"

His call was answered by that of a deep voice, loud to try to override the music;  
"Over here, Gomora! – table thirteen!"

Not long after this first outcry came a second voice – higher, and not as loud as that of its predecessor;  
"We already ordered for you, Gomora! Over here!"

Gomora led Niki in the direction of these shouts, past several other tables, at which were seated assorted figures, all darkened by the light. Finally, Gomora pulled Niki into the access of the half-circled table, and he sat down beside him on the large, plushy couch. He noticed that the table, and the individuals sitting at its opposite end, were much taller than either his or Gomora's size.

"Hey there, Gomora", the deeper of the two voices came through the darkness.

"Yo, Argo", Gomora answered, fumbling with something that Niki couldn't see.

"Oh…hello", came the deep voice again…and Niki had the feeling that it was directed at him.  
"Gomora, who is this?"

"Who? – I can't see!", the higher voice returned, whining slightly.

Niki had no time to ponder or try and decipher any of this talk before there was an alarming jerk beneath him, and he felt the padded bench that he and Gomora sat on rise up and up, until the two of them could finally sit at a comfortable height at the table.

* * *

(_A/N: I pray that this read has proved satisfactory for thine eyes, faithful reader - please take notice of my commentary on this chappie, and don't hate it until you do.  
In saying that thisis_ (what I feel) _the strangest chapter of the fic_ (again, only so far), _I'm not saying so on account of the content, but on the basis of how it ended up being written. See, this chapter was supposed to be twice as long...but I feared that it would end up being too long_ (empty concern, as I see now), _so I stopped writing at what I felt would be the halfway-point. Obviously, the sequel-chapter will introduce Gomora's friends, Argo_ (copywrite to BlueFox) _and Aries, who will play a signifigant part throughout the story. If anybody felt this chapter, on account of my actions,was too short...tough bannanas! _(I'm so sorry!)  
_On a smaller note, I realize that I might have the honor of the esteemed WatsonSword reviewing this chapter, and, before all, I want to apologize for any logic-defying information that I have included regarding the swordworks_ (though not Gomora's wielding of it - my model was the Ninja from _Metal Gear Solid_) _(and yes, I know that ninjutsu is not just a form of swordplay...but we'll get into the meaning of Gomy saying that later on)._  
_...And if anybody thinks I'm exaggerating, my fictitious group of anti-gay ralliers in front of the club are quite a reality on Earth, and just as brazen as they appear here _(eat them) _Likewise, I know that most everybody might consider AIDS to be an Earth-bound disease...but it's a popular calling-card of the above-mentioned people, so I decided to include its mention_.

_Hope everybody enjoyed this chapter - see y'all as soon as the next one's up!_)


	13. Birthday Boy

(_A/N: hey-hello there, everybody_ (short number of people who're still reviewing) _- you're just in time to read the latest chapter of Elisir!  
Oh, but before you get your hopes up...this is a flash-forward, as was the 6th chapter. I found that the only way that I could justify chapter 6's presence was by making these fluffy flash-forwards a regularity in this fic, not unlike the flashbacks_ (more of which are to come). _I hope that doesn't alienate any of you from reading and reviewing this chapter...if you're still with me, I'll have more to say at the end. Enjoy_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 13

* * *

"Oh, Gomy – thank you!" 

Niki had just pulled the festive wrapping-paper off of a CD's cover of the artist Ayne, entitled '_When Sky and River Were Blue'_.  
Gomora, visibly delighted at his mate's approval of his gift, tried to hide his grin with an expression of nonchalance.

"Oh, well, you know…", he said, coolly.  
"…I was just in the store, and I knew you liked that kind of music, so…"

Niki's eyes were practically dancing as he turned the CD over in his hands to read the track listings.

"Oh, Gomora – this is so cool!", he delighted.  
"I've been hoping to hear this song again for a year! Thank you!"

The smaller Experiment threw his arms around his crimson lover's neck for a moment, before hurrying over to the other's massive stereo to insert his new CD. A few clicks later, the instrumentation, sounding like running water, accompanied by soft vocals, commenced. Gomora then beheld his lover beginning to move his hips in rhythm to the music, and he knew that he had done right if he had managed to make his usually-reserved Niki move to the music.  
The small Experiment melded himself into the soft, non-abusive waves of his sound-of-choice, an expression of blissful intoxication on his bright face. How any type of music could touch anybody to this affect might remain unknown, but the trance that Ayne's music that had set upon Niki was evident as could be, as he soft-shoed and silled his way back over to Gomora, rubbing up against the big guy's chest with his back.

"Mmm…you did good", he complimented Gomora, reaching his arms behind his head to sensuously wrap them around the bigger Experiment's neck.

Gomora, not faltering to act on the situation, eagerly responded by putting his arms around Niki's flat, furry belly.

"…Well, it's your birthday", was all he could manage to reply, while faced with such an on-turning force.

Niki turned around in Gomora's arms, and, rising onto his tip-toes, pressed his lips against his crimson mate's for a soft exchange of orally-expressed love and gratitude.

"Not that I'm complaining…", he began softly, after the kiss's expanse, and he had begun stroking Gomora's pectorals.  
"…but how'd you figure that it was my birthday? – _I_ don't even know my birthday."

Gomora, looking woozy from the kiss, shrugged his shoulders weakly as he absentmindedly stroked the small of Niki's back – the intimate, physical closeness between the two of them seemed to be going to his head.

"I…uh…well, it's a sunny day, isn't it?"

Niki smiled, unsurprised that his birthday announcement had been as unprompted as anything, and recognized it as yet another attempt of his lover to shower him with happiness. He almost felt guilty for it.

"But now I feel bad, 'cause I didn't get anything for you", he said, leveling himself with his own revelation.

"Let's have my birthday next week then, hmm?", Gomora suggested.  
"Or the week after; it doesn't really matter. You don't have to get me anything at all –"

"Oh, don't be silly", Niki interjected; the two of them were so close that they could smell eachother's breath.  
"I couldn't _not_ get you something…at least in return for this, you wonderful present-choosing sweetheart, you…"

Niki pressed himself against Gomora's chest and body as much as he could, nuzzling his blissful face into the fine-furred, muscular contours of Gomora's chest. His arms around Gomora's back caressed the hard-earned muscles that escarped the Experiment's spine and made him so darn sexy to Niki. Gomora smelled so relaxingly pleasant that it was all Niki could do so not completely inhale him, as he took in the delicious aroma of Gomora, as he did Mel's so long ago.

"Mmm…I love you", he professed, as he snuggled his head into Gomora's neck.  
"I really, really love you."

Gomora, entranced to the point that he could only hold Niki against him and stare down at the top of his beautiful head (he didn't mind the scar that was slightly visible through his fur – he loved it as much as he loved every other part of Nikita), could only reply simply;  
"…I love you, too, Niki-honey…"

He couldn't explain the feeling of what came over him whenever he was around Niki…he couldn't even comprehend trying to narrate the feelings he experienced when he held him. He adored Niki for whatever power he possessed that affected him like this – he was like some outputting generator, whose potency became (or seemed) stronger the more you approached it. For now, with feeling Niki against him making his nerves tingle, he was tormented by not being able to think of something with much consistency to say, but he hoped that these were one of those situations where words weren't necessary…and, after a while of standing there in that silent embrace, it sure seemed so.  
Niki kissed Gomora's right pectoral, on his light-colored, near-invisible nipple, and looked up at his mate with gusto in his sparkling eyes.

"Let's have sex!", he exclaimed.  
"Right now, on the floor!"

Gomora looked on in surprise at this sudden mood change of Niki's. Sure, they had had sex often before, and it always was good, and he knew that Niki wouldn't deny it either…but he couldn't remember the last time that Niki had so openly insinuated it like this ("That's my job", Gomora thought to himself).

"…Did I really do that good of a job?", Gomora asked, still trying to comprehend the suggestion.

Niki rubbed up against Gomora's body once more as he smiled into his face.

"C'mon – I know you'd like to", he urged his mate, taking his hands into his own.  
"I want you so bad right now, you hot, ferocious thing, you!"

"…But you said that you had some paperwork to –"

"Forget the paperwork! Let's work with some latex instead!"

"But you also said that you were tired –"

"To Hell with tiredness! – you woke me up, and now I want you on top of me! C'mere!"

And with that, he pulled Gomora down onto the fluffy shag rug (which was just as comfortable as the couch), pulling him on top of himself in his unusual display of sexual desire.

"C'mon - you're always so eager to get me on my back", he continued to urge, petting the back of Gomora's head.  
"What's up now?"

"…Well, nothing", Gomora replied, looking down into the face of his beloved, bordered by the purple shag.  
"…I'm just congratulating myself, 'cause I obviously made you feel good enough to move you to insist on something I'm usually asking for."

Niki grinned and wriggled pleasingly on the carpet.

"You did good", he replied simply.  
"You did really good…and I guess, aside from putting me in the mood, you made me feel eased enough to ask for it…compassion turns me on, I guess."

The two grinned bemusedly at eachother. Silently, they both reveled in the feelings they both could not describe, and only held eachother in both their arms and their gaze, feeling perfectly content and without any disinterest in the other – after quite some time of being together, the two of them still remained in all of eachother.

"…So that's that?", Gomora asked playfully after a while, breaking the silenced.

"Yup", Niki replied with a nod.  
"We can get philosophical about it later, but right now, I just want you."

With a smile, Gomora leaned down, and, turning his head slightly to the side, he pressed his lips against Niki's, feeling them willingly part for him as his mate's caressing hand returned the back of his head…the other, he noticed, had found its way to his buttocks. In return, Gomora released his seldom-used second pair of arms, and slowly took to sliding them beneath Niki's shirt to rub at his delicate chest before beginning to pull it over his head.

"_Oh God – he feels so good…what can I do? Can I make him feel as good as he feels to me?_"

"_Yes, yes – thank you, thank you, thank you! I love this guy so much! Oh, please don't let this end! I wanna love him forever!_"

Shirtless, Niki leaned up to gently re-immerse himself into the kiss, feeling that Heaven was possible on a mortal plane if ever Gomora was around.  
Gomora, holding, kissing, and rubbing his lover up and down, shortly pondered how he had ever lived without this kind of meaning in his life - to keep Niki happy, he was more than willing to do so. He'd be willing to die for him, he thought to himself...but quickly drove the idea of death from his mind as Niki began anxiously working at his own vest.

* * *

(_A/N: just a few words on this chapter, starting with the fictional musical artist Ayne - spellthe namebackwards and you'll have a close idea of the musicAyne makes. Making Niki and Gomy's musical tastes polar-opposites will hopefully open up one or two non-aggressive, possibly-comedic sequences that may liven up the story a bit...if necessary.  
Also, the purpose of these flash-forward chapters_ (as that of the flashbacks) _is to show the contrast and comparison between different times in Niki's life and the present, with the flashbacks being among the darker times, and the flash-forwards showing how good he's gonna get it in life. It's unconventional, and maybe even unnecessary, but, as all of my innovations, I do it so to keep the story interesting...I hope I accomplish the task.  
This isn't a great chapter, but was fun to write...I tried to show an environment that our usually-reserved Niki would feel at total ease in...but that goes even without the presents_) 


	14. The House Of Colours

(_A/N: finally, I've procured the latest chapter of_ Elisir. _After reading through this chapter, however, I found it kinda slow – I had intended to have a longer content, but I think that would've thrown it out-of-balance. Please enjoy_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 14

* * *

The bench stopped rising smoothly once Niki saw appropriate space between his knees and the bottom of the table. He turned his head, and saw Gomora only briefly illuminated in the laser lights. A song of the words "_this is really dangerous_" was playing over the sound system. He had still to make out who exactly was sitting across from Gomora and him. Whoever it was, his arm cast a massive silhouette as it reached across the table to take Gomora's hand. 

"Good to see you again", the deep voice rumbled as the trunk-sized arm withdrew.  
"Have you had a busy week? – we haven't heard from you in a while."

"S'pose I've been a bit occupied", Gomora replied, leaning back in his seat.  
"What about you two?"

"He's been working overtime", the higher of the two voices chimed from the table's end.  
"Too much. I hardly see him anymore during the day! People need to stop getting sick and shooting eachother."

Niki had no idea what exactly was being talked about, but he didn't feel guilty about it. Personally, seeing that huge shadow of an arm reach out from the darkness was a bit unnerving, and he felt content not to be drawn in just yet.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Aries", Gomora lamented in reply, leaning back against the bench's pads.  
"What do you do with yourself during those lonesome hours?"

"…Sleep and watch TV", came the somewhat embarrassed reply from the high voice.  
"…And sometimes I order food…for dinner."

"_Oh_ – hello. Gomora, whom might this be?"

Niki knew that he had been discovered…rose yet, by the owner of the deeper voice and the huge arm.  
However, before anything more could be said, the music faded somewhat abruptly, and a cheer went up from the dance floor.

"_I've kept all of you on the floor long enough_", a new voice spoke over the sound system, reverberating heavily.  
"_Have a break and sit down for a while, will you?_"

With that, the lights overhead were activated, the dance floor became illuminated, and Niki saw who exactly he was sitting across from.  
He saw a scaly face. Reptilian, but too large to belong to an Arhk. And notable curved ears on the sides of the head; Arhks didn't have ears like that. Shoulder-length black hair fell from the top of the creature's head in a tangly disarray. Shining eyes of a light pink peered out from beneath a small, boney forehead, and an elongated muzzle stretched out past the eyeline. Clearly, without doubt, this was a Dragon.  
Niki had never seen a Dragon in-person, so to say. There had never been one in the pouf, as to his knowledge; not as his customer, anyway. He had seen a few on television, sometimes, and remembered a liberal Draconian senator from the news channel making waves in the Volcanov senate. Dragons, as to his knowledge, were in the upper-crust of the Intergalactic economy, and finding one on this planet seemed unlikely and surprising.  
The Dragon was big. At least ten feet tall, Niki guessed, from this sitting position. Yet, this size barely even compared to the character sitting next to the Drake, whose massive left arm rested around the Dragon's shoulders. A bluish-gray arm it was, bare, and three-fingered – brazenly rippling with as much muscle as any appendage could, and connected to an equally-massive shoulder, wide and burly. Niki's eyes journeyed up a thick, broad chest, into a face that remained half-hidden in the shadows of the wall. The one visible eye shone an illuminating sky-blue, set over a large, sphering snout and nose flanked by twin, fleshy tusks. Niki found himself looking at one of the largest Shorcans that he had ever seen.  
Still, this was, as in the case of the Dragon, a matter of some relevance: Niki had never actually seen a Shorcan in physicality, but he had seen enough of them on television over his time on this planet. Huge and stoic they had always appeared, appearing en-masse at political ceremonies and usually flanking the Grand Council Woman when she appeared in public. The entire Shorcan race, it seemed, were devotees to the Galactic Armed Forces, and were hardly ever seen out-of-uniform. God knows if one of them would even dare to enter a pouf. They served and fought for the Galactic Alliance, and were recognized as the brawny backbone of the Alliance and its prevalence in conflicts. They were dutiful, powerful, and patriotic…and Niki had never ever heard of any one of them being described as gay.  
Not that this one looked it, overall: dressed in a denim vest (with sleeves torn off at the shoulders) over a white t-shirt, the Shorca looked plainly casual, and slightly out-of-place in such a flamboyant place of bright colors and revealing outfits.  
Niki was sure that he had supplied the deeper of the two voices that he had heard before.  
The Dragon resting beneath his arm, however, was attired in a red flannel zip-up jacket over what appeared to be a blue t-shirt. The mane of hair that fell from between his ears looked as though it had been attempted to be tamed, but had temporarily won the battle between hair and brush. He appeared snuggled up against the neighboring giant's side, but leaned forward at the brightening of the lights to look at Niki.

"Gomora, you never told us you had a brother!"

Niki remained silent at this observation, and found nothing that he could reply; he didn't have the first idea of how to speak to a Dragon and a Shorcan.  
There came a small (yet deep) sigh from the larger of the two beings, and the Shorca placed a hand on the Dragon's shoulder and, firmly (but gently), pulled him back into his seat.

"Don't be rude like that, honey", he admonished the Drake.

The Shorca's "honey" grinned up playfully from beneath the behemoth's armpit with a sheepish playfulness.

"Sorry, Argo", he apologized, reaching up his left hand to pat the thick wrist that rested over his shoulder.  
"But Gomy's never told us about his relatives…"

"Oh, you know me better than that", Gomora interjected, waving a hand at the idea.  
"I just thought I'd bring around my new room mate for you two to meet."

Niki might've laughed at hearing himself referred to as Gomora's 'room mate', but this didn't seem like the place. The large Shorca had raised his eyebrows (or the one that was visible) at this telling, as though he were as surprised as Nikita was.

"Room mate?", he repeated with curiosity.  
"My goodness, Gomora – that's quite a leap forward for you, the master of seclusion."

Gomora eyed the giant with something close to annoyance at the remark and mumbled something about drunken Shorcas saying silly things. Niki considered for a moment that he didn't seem drunk at all, but at this moment, the Shorca had turned his head towards him, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"I'm very sorry – that was rude of me", he apologized, and once more, he extended his pillar-like arm across the table.  
"I'm Argo, and this is my mate, Aries."

The Dragon likewise extended his arm across the table with a grin.

"Hiya", he greeted happily.

For a second, Niki sat stunned – not at all at being offered two large handshakes at once…but because as Argo the Shorca had leaned forth, the shadowy mask from his face had been lifted, and the face that had revealed itself from the darkness wasn't at all what Niki had expected.  
True enough, Argo was bald-headed, large-jawed, and pupil-less from this distance…at least, in one of his eyes.  
Argo's left eye was a glowing shade of ocean-blue, yet his other…he didn't seem to have a right eye – at least not a real one: a pupil which glowed laser-red was set inside a grey metallic casing that spanned from his inner orbital hollow to the Shorcan's temple, shining unblinkingly at Nikita, who found himself staring at the metallic proportion for a moment before he summoned himself to raise both hands in response to the initial gesture.  
Aries the Dragon gripped Niki's entire arm heartily and tremored Niki in his seat with a shake. After this, the little Experiment was terrified of Argo's mammoth, three-fingered hand coming towards him (while Aries' hand had engulfed his entire right arm, Argo looked quite capable of closing his fist entirely around Niki), but the Shorca proved more restrained his comrade, as he gently took Niki's hand between his huge thumb and forefinger for a cordial shake/tug.

"…Nice to meet you", Niki managed, once he retained his appendages and sat back into his chair.

He was hoping that neither of the two giants had noticed him staring at Argo's right eye, oblivious that his visible determination to keep from looking at it was almost as big of a giveaway as his staring had been.  
When he dared another look at Argo, he found the behemoth smiling at him.

"I'm glad Gomora finally found someone to share some space with – must be either fate or coincidence that it'd be with a fellow member of his ever-elusive species. How long have you been on this planet?...and forgive me for not asking before, but what's your name?"

Feeling a bit uncomfortable at what seemed to be yet another individual assuming a relationship between Gomora and himself, Niki answered softly;  
"My name's Nikita…I've been here for two years."

"Charmed", Argo replied with a nod.  
"I've been here three and a half years, myself. I'm with the emergency medical center a few blocks into the city. What've you been doing whilst on this planet?"

Niki was spared answering this question for a moment by an interjecting Aries, who stuck his head across the table.

"I've been here three years!", he proclaimed, seemingly for the record.  
"I've lived with Argo, and kept our apartment clean all that time!"

"And I appreciate it, sweetheart", Argo replied to the statement, along with another small sigh, and once more he pulled the Dragon back by his shoulder, before adding to Gomora;  
"I do hope you sought to tidy up your place a bit, Gomora, with a guest staying with you."

"Stop trying to be my mother", the red Experiment replied, tapping the table top with his clawed fingers.  
"Any theme or specialty going on tonight?"

"Not really", Argo answered, looking up towards the second-story platform that overlooked the dance floor.  
"Nebular's been saying that he's trying to get back on public broadcast, and that we should call the service to demand him, so he can premiere a project he's been working on."

Niki looked up to where Argo was gazing: led to by a way of stairs off to the far end of the bar (Niki's beliefs of it being a bar were now confirmed, for now its seats seated a number of brightly-colored individuals), the 'second story' was a railing-lined platform that roofed the bar. In the center of its edge, what appeared to be a half-ovalled pedestal, large enough to suit only one average-sized person, jutted out from the railing. Standing inside of this elevated pod was a blonde-haired Merurian – a smooth-skinned and bespeckled bi-ped with an even (yet sharp) face. Bending over what seemed to be a sort of control panel, Niki noted his spiked hair (unlike Mel's, whose hair had always been molded into shards) and a set of silver headphones suspended over his neck. He seemed busy inputting something into the controls of the pod's settings-board.

"That's DJ Nebular", Niki heard Gomora whisper to him, over his shoulder.  
"He owns this place – been here for almost five years."

Aries leaned across the table and added, in an uncharacteristic whisper;  
"They say he's got a rifle hidden with him in his platform, there – just in case somebody tries to make trouble!"

"Aries, he has Zephrian and the other bouncers to take care of that", Argo replied to his smaller mate.

"I know", Aries answered, turning back to Argo.  
"But you know how he used to work at another place, and some group came in, because it was a gay place, and shot his boyfriend?"

At this, Niki turned back to the end of the table that Argo and Aries sat, surprised.  
Against Niki's expectations, Argo didn't sigh, but stroked one of his pillow-sized hands over Aries' shoulder.

"That's gossip", he told the young Dragon softly.  
"Besides, he's never told us about any of that, has he?"

With a grin, he placed his hand on top of Aries' bony head and rustled his hair; Aries giggled and pretended to push his arm away.

"Lovebirds", Gomora muttered with a small grin.  
"But anyway, that's the rumor."

Niki said nothing, but looked from the inter-specied pair to DJ Nebular, who had stopped occupying himself at his pod's controls. Niki saw him take a large step onto the main platform and he walked along the railing and down the stairs. People still on the dance floor (a generic dance track was playing beneath the chatter of the house's occupants) either clapped, whopped, showed thumbs-up, or patted him on the shoulder as he walked through his electronic menagerie of colors towards the bar. He accepted the attention and approval modestly before sitting down on a swivel chair facing the bar, at least one empty seat away from where the next customer sat. A few feet away, a group of short, scaled individuals were whispering and giggling amongst themselves, all whilst throwing glances at DJ Nebular's back.

"Everyone wants the DJ", Gomora remarked.

Niki continued eyeing the back of the resting DJ Nebular for a while, and, whilst doing so, couldn't help but feeling a touch of loneliness in the air that surrounded him – it seemed akin to him, even from this distance.  
Just then, from seemingly out of nowhere, something moved in front of him – something big, robust, and sparkling…and terrifically out-of-place: a pair of breasts.  
Niki looked up in surprise, into the face of a female Luik – pale-skinned, long-haired, and wearing a dark, fabric top, across which was written in sparkly letters 'Nebular's Is Sexy'.

"Hey, Luna", the three voices behind him chorused.

Her made-up face smiled.

"Hi, y'all", she chirruped, before looking back down at Nikita.  
"Gomora, how nice of you – you brought your sister to the club!"

Niki could feel himself burning up at the exclamation; in all of his life, he had been known as small, and, just a while ago, had been mistaken for Gomora's brother…but _never_ had he been mistaken for a girl.  
He supposed for a moment that it might be better to be thought a girl than Gomora's boyfriend, but, in a second, Gomora spoke up in response;  
"Luna, ya starry-eyed nut – Niki's a guy!"

"Oh, you brought your boyfriend to the club! That's so sweet, Gomy!"

Niki didn't set his forehead onto the edge of the table, but he lowered it slightly, in hopes that the glow of his reddening wouldn't be too obvious.  
Even Gomora was set back by this (Niki thought that he felt him going red, too), and the two of them might've very well remained speechless, were it not for Argo who spoke up for both of them.

"Oh, Luna – not everybody's here with he a date", he told her, in his deep, calm voice.  
"Nikita here is Gomora's room mate – don't jump to conclusions."

Luna the Luik smirked innocently at this and placed her hands on her spangled hip-hugging pants.

"Sure…'room mate'", she remarked in playful suspicion.  
"Oh, Gomora – I played that 'room mate' nonsense on my parents, too; don't think you can fool me."

"Speaking of room mates, what're you doing over here, anyway?", Gomora replied, still glowing a bit.  
"Left Sula behind the counter again?"

He motioned towards the bar where DJ Nebular sat, now (Niki saw) being served a martini glass by a black-scaled female creature with short, silver hair - Niki couldn't recall the name of her species. He couldn't make out her appearance completely, but she seemed to be wearing a silver-spiked collar and a sleeveless t-shirt…and if Niki's eyes served him right, he would've sworn that a lizard-like tail occasionally flicked above the counter behind her, as she spoke shortly with the DJ before looking up, in the direction of the table where Luna was standing

"I saw a new face over here, and I wanted to say hello", Luna insisted, now leaning onto the table, showcasing pink-lacquered fingernails.  
"…Which you've all kept me from. Heya, little guy!"

She extended her hand towards Niki so quickly that he feared she'd be able to slice his nose off. He took it, tenderly, and had it wrung vigorously while he heard;  
"How ya doin'? Your name's Niki, huh? I'm Luna – please to meetcha'!"

"…Pleased", Niki managed, retrieving his quivering hand.

"So, you're not Gomora's new boy?", she asked (more or less – it wasn't really a question to him).  
"That's a shame. You look like you'd be good together. Same species is one thing, but you being so lil' and cute and him so big and tough…you'd be the dream pair!"

Niki said nothing.

"So, your first time here?"

"…Yes."

"Ever been to a club or disco?"

"Not really…"

"Plan on coming back?"

"…"

"You should. It's a really great place. Dancing all night long, and Nebby plays his own mixes. It's a softcore place, really – Nebby's got his bouncers, but that's really only to keep the bad people out, 'cause all we got in here is gay guys who wanna dance and find a date. Nebby watches out from his top-box. There's a room in the back for guys who find eachother in here and want some time alone. No sex allowed, though…but you can dance on the tables when they go up during trance hour."

"_So here's where my sugar got to!_"

The dark female barhand had approached the table from behind and had wrapped her arms around Luna, who gave a small squeal of surprise and immediate delight as the claws of her surpriser folded over her exposed belly.

"Your squishy cuteness saves you the rage you deserve for leaving me alone behind the bar…again."

The dark one's voice was low, and carried a small, snake-like 'sss'ing noise with each syllabant. If he hadn't seen her face (which rested on Luna's shoulder; red lips lay beneath a sharp, hooked nose and sharp eyebrows, which, redeemingly, held bright, silver eyes), he would've been wary of her.  
Luna chuckled and put her hands behind her head, to rest them across the scaled girl's decored neck. Aries leaned across the table and informed Niki;  
"They're lesbians!"

The scaly barkeep removed one of her hands from Luna and patted Aries on the head, showcasing formidable black claws.

"Oh, Aries, sugar", she lamented with a smile, sounding and looking more serpentine than before.  
"If you weren't so cute, you'd have earned a few beatings."

Aries grinned, and settled himself back against Argo's side.

"That's why I got my big daddy to protect me!"

Argo grinned, and looked at the female pair.

"Tough night, Sula?"

"Oh, end of the week, sugar", Sula replied, shaking her head.  
"Was doing fine until this sweetheart decided to go and socialize. Neb was wondering where you'd gotten to."

"Oh, Nebby's a sweetheart", Luna insisted.  
"Don't you worry about him."

"I'll worry about getting paid for working, honey", Sula retorted, giving Luna's ear a nibble.  
"You gonna get back there with me?"

"Oh, but you haven't met Niki yet!", the Luik exclaimed, turning back to the smaller Experiment.  
"Niki, cutie, this is my girlfriend, Sula – Sulie, this is Niki!"

Wondering if there was any reason at all for him to open his mouth, Niki gave a timid nod at Sula, whose silver gaze had finally found him.

"Nice to meet you, sugar", she greeted deeply, as the two of them shook hands.

She eyed him with some interest for a moment with her diamond-like eyes, peering out from the depth of her dark face.

"You two related?", she asked both of the Experiments, with some note of natural authority in her voice.

Niki turned to Gomora, and he seemed to actually be pondering the question's fundament.

"…No…not really…I think…", he answered, eventually.  
"…Or we're separated by three hundred or so single generations."

Sula didn't seem to give the oddness of this answer much thought, but nodded curtly, and gave Luna a frisky smack on the behind.

"C'mon, sugar – let's get back to work, before the liquor piles up", she coerced Luna, and gave her shoulder a slight tug.

"Oh, but these guys aren't set up, yet!", Luna remarked with dismay, looking across the table, set only with the resting wrists of Gomora and Aries.  
"We have to bring them something! They're dry!"

"If they want something something, they can come to the bar like everybody else", Sula insisted, with the hint of a groan as she continued to tug at Luna's shoulder.

Argo shifted slightly in his seat.

"It's really no problem for us to go up there and get something ourselves", he said.  
"It's really no problem at all."

"But I want to serve my favorite guys!", Luna insisted.

Sula sighed aloud and looked annoyed at her girlfriend's insistence.

"Fine", she said, flatly.  
"But you're bringing the stuff. And don't be surprised if everybody else in the place wants to be served afterwards, too."

She turned on her heel and walked back in the direction of the bar, her steps illuminating the color-tiles of the dance floor.  
Luna watched her retreating apprehensively for a moment before turning back to the table with a smile.

"So what would quench the fine gentlemen's thirsts tonight?"

"I want a toffee mix!", Aries was first to exclaim, raising his hand as he did so.

"I'd like a blue wine of Zel", Argo said, pushing down Aries' arm as he did so, adding;  
"We're walking, so no need to worry."

"I'll have a Makatoo", Gomora decided quickly, before rethinking his decision.  
"…On second thought, water it down a bit; I'm driving with someone, so I guess I can't get smashed tonight, huh?"

Niki figured the same; he didn't know how to operate any kind of vehicle.  
Lastly, Luna turned towards him.

"What'll it be, cutie?"

Niki wasn't sure how to answer – he had plenty of drinking experience, but all that he ever had was beer that he didn't necessarily enjoy. Beer had taken him a few steps from consciousness, during times when he felt that he just couldn't take his toil anymore, but aside from that, though, he hadn't drunk anything very alcoholic – alcohol was, after all, more expensive than food, and he doubted that Mel would've allowed him to get completely 'smashed', anyway.  
He gave himself a moment's thought, and his mind settled on some beverage that he had seen not-too-long-ago on television.

"…Do you have 'Red Bison'?"

"We sure do", Luna answered, pretending to write down his order, as though she were a waitress; she looked around the table.  
"Okay, will that be all? Really? Okay – I'll be right back!"

She hurried from the table, across the dance floor, and Niki felt sure that she was asking Sula if she was mad at her.  
Niki turned back to the table, where Argo was talking to Aries.

"You shouldn't be drinking anything, you know that", the larger male was admonishing his mate.  
"You know how it affects you; it's not good for you."

For the first time of the night, Aries looked visibly discomforted; in what was a surprising change it brought about in the Dragon's face, which, at the scolding, had dropped from its curious, cheerful state to an uncomfortable and embarrassed visage. He looked, simply, as though he wanted to disappear.

"…It's not fair", he said, after a short while; quietly.  
"Everybody else gets to drink; why not me?"

He spoke the last sentence a bit angrily…and Niki, being unsure of the situation, felt a bit uncomfortable as a spectator.  
Argo, likewise, looked a bit uncomfortable, too…but more so, saddened. Tenderly, he placed a hand on Aries' back and petted him.

"…It doesn't mix with your medication, honey", he said, softly to his mate, his single blue eye quite adept to displaying sadness.  
"You know that…and I don't want you to feel any worse than…"

He broke off, and simply continued to stroke the back of Aries, who had leaning with his elbows on the table.  
Niki sat back in his chair and looked down at his stomach (flat and furry). This conversation, exchange, or situation (or whatever it was) between Argo and Aries was something that made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't know why – but it was, after all, a problem (or whatever) of theirs that he was witness to; he hadn't known too many problems in his life (other than his own, which had been massive), not any between other people. Mel never seemed to have any problems that Niki could notice (although he was having his doubts about his own omniscience by now), and he hadn't known anyone or had any friends whose personal problems were confided in him…and now, as Argo and Aries sat across from him, immersed in something uncomfortable for them…Niki felt uncomfortable.  
The feeling (and his thinking about it) confused him, and he turned to Gomora for some sort of clarification. He found none, as Gomora looked away from both Niki and Argo and Aries; Niki thought for a while that was feeling guilty (or at least uncomfortable) at having ordered a drink.

"Hey…Aries, honey?"

"…Mmm?"

"A Shorca goes into a pharmacy…"

"Argo…leave me alone…"

"_A Shorca goes into a pharmacy_, Aries…"

" …and?..."

Both Niki and Gomora looked up: Argo was rubbing Aries' back with one hand, a smile on his face as he set up what appeared to be a joke.

"Well", Argo went on.  
"He goes into the pharmacy and says 'I need some Viagra; give me six pills and I'll cut them into little pieces'. Says the pharmacist, 'Sir, I don't think that'll last you through sex'. Says the Shorca, 'Sex? I haven't had sex in years. I'm eighty-five, and I just needing something to get it up so I stop peeing on my shoes'."

Aries snorted so loudly and so violently in laughter that saliva flew across almost the entire table, whilst Gomora and Niki ducked for cover; Gomora himself had burst out with a laugh that he had been unable to control, and as they rose together, Niki saw him still trying to restrain himself, whilst holding a hand to his mouth. Aries giggled incessantly, and moved back underneath Argo's arm, sniggering into Argo's chest while the Shorca hugged the Dragon against his body.

"…'_so I stop peeing on my shoes'_…", Aries giggled breathlessly, hugging Argo back across his torso.

"…Talking about my grandfather, there", Argo chuckled to himself, giving Aries a kiss on top of his head.  
"…Because that's what doctors do, y'know – just stand around the lounge all day and tell jokes."

Despite his abilities to contain himself, Niki had also found it to be a pretty funny joke.  
Just then, Luna approached the table hurriedly, balancing a quadroon of glasses on top of a metal tray.

"Sorry it took so long!", she apologized as she neared the table, the tray tipping dangerously.  
"Other people were in line, and Nebby's just gone up to – _whoa!_"

With split-second precision, the Luik managed to slam the tray down on the table top (Gomora quickly withdrew his hands) without spilling more than a drop.

"There!", she expelled, looking positively exhausted at her effort as she straightened back up.  
"I had to get the drinks mixed, and Nebby's just gone back up to his top-box to start the music again…I wouldn't have been able to balance with the lights off and people on the dance floor!"

She leaned against the table again, and looked willing to take a sip of one of the beverages, herself.

"We commend your effort, our efficient Luna", Gomora stated with a smile as he took his own glass from the tray.

"Oh, shut up, you…", Luna retorted, searching for an adjective-rich name to fling at Gomora before she gave up.

The tray was quickly emptied of glasses, and Niki studied the contents of his own martini-shaped glass.  
Odd, he thought – the drink he had seen on television was red, not orange.  
He didn't give it too much thought (after all, everything looked better in advertising, anyway), and looked around at the mixtures of his comrades, ranging from caramel-colored to evil green to azure blue.  
Just then, the lights overhead began flickering. A rustle of voices fell over the dance room, and a moment later, DJ Nebular's voice boomed over the loudspeakers.

"_Get your asses out of those seats – it's time to move it, move it!_"

Luna gave a yip of surprise: Sula had sneaked up behind her again.

"Want to?", her low voice asked, huskily.

"Of course!", the Luik replied happily, turning around and planting a quick smooch on Sula's lips before taking her hand.

The two barhands skipped away from the table and onto the dance floor, which was calling people from their resting places, and moving them towards the lighted panels like filing ants.  
Argo gripped his glass and lifted it off of the table.

"A toast?", he suggested.

Gomora and Aries took hold of their drinks, too, and raised them high. Niki followed suit, aware that his own glass reached the lowest into the air.

"To a new friend", he proclaimed, and motioned towards Nikita with his glass.

"To a new friend!", Aries and Gomora chimed in (Niki was too busy straining his arm to listen if Gomora had been forceful or not on the word 'friend').

Niki smiled very softly, embarrassed, as he muttered a soft;  
"Thank you…"

"I hope we'll have more time to get to know eachother, Nikita", Argo said, his glass till raised elegantly, his electronic eye shining the in the flickering light.  
"Gomora's lucky to have someone living with him."

Gomora's reaction to this, Niki didn't see – as the four of them took their first sips, Niki lowered his head, and didn't look at Gomora. His drink wasn't half-bad.  
A moment later, the lights went off with a loud, electronic _pang_; people on the dance floor cheered loudly. Niki took another sip of his drink. Simultaneously, the rainbow lights and an upbeat and feral tune began to pulsate from the amplifiers, and DJ Nebular was spotlighted jamming in his top-box, earphones on his head, as his customers began dancing beneath him. Niki sipped from his drink again. He thought he saw Sula and Luna close-grinding somewhere amongst the sparsely-illuminated crowd. He sipped again. Now, they seemed to be expanding, until there were two of them. He wondered for a moment whether this was some psychedelic effect that the club had to offer and sipped from his drink again. The beats of the music reverberated in his head like two heavy weights, going _boom, boom, boom, boom_. He looked away from the nauseating motion of the dance floor across the table he sat at ("_Am I sitting?_"), and found that Argo and Aries had tripled. He turned his heavy, drowsing head towards Gomora, who had likewise quadrupled. The music, sans the incessant thumping in his head, seemed to be growing distant.

"_Oh, shit_", Niki thought to himself, unaware that he was speaking aloud as well (in slurred words, as a line of saliva escaped his lips).  
"_Am I having a seizure?_"

The next thing he knew, he had slid out of his chair and onto the floor.

* * *

(_A/N: whoa – I introduced five new characters in one chapter…please, ladies and gents: hold your applause!  
__Oh, well. I tried some new elements in this chapter, and I do hope that you, the readers, find them palatable. Argo and Aries _(Argo, by the way, belongs to my buddy BlueFox) _will be somewhat-important characters throughout the rest of the story, and will definitely make a few more appearances. We can count on seeing Sula, Luna, and DJ Nebular again, but to a lesser extent. Oh, and Argo's joke? – I also got it from Blue.  
Forgive the cliffhanger ending…I really couldn't help myself.  
The mentioned_ (and obviously potent)_ 'Red Bison' drink is indeed inspired by the _Red Bull _energy drink, which I do not drink and do not own._  
_Thank yous to everybody who took the time to read and review chapters twelve and thirteen – I'll do my best_ (as always) _to have the new chapter up ASAP. Until then, hasta la vista_) 


	15. A Satellite Above The Rainy World

(_A/N: welcome all to the latest chapter of Elisir. What you're about to read is pretty much an action-less chapter, but that will surely be altered for something more interesting by the next chapter. Please read on and enjoy_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 15

* * *

It was a muddy hurricane of noises that surrounded Niki, whose aching head seemed to be pulsating as his vision faded in and out of focus. Whether or not this was the result of his six-foot fall from the top of the bench, he didn't know, but it didn't really matter to him at the moment, as he hoped that relief would present itself in either fashion of ceasing the muddled throbbing or allowing him to leave consciousness. Neither was granted to him, as he lay on the floor, feeling as though he was lying at the bottom of a black hole, wondering if anybody had noticed his vertical departure. Dimly aware that his condition might be the fault of the drink, he gave a groan, and found that he couldn't hear his own voice.  
An eternity seemed to pass before him. The mixture of colors in front of his eyes seemed to be regaining some focus, and in the far distant, he thought that he could hear somebody shouting. He became dimly aware that the music seemed to have stopped (though its strains still reverberated inside of his head), and a moment later, somebody was supporting his head, and he was feeling very sick to his stomach. Garbled, distant shouting was wringing his ears, mixed with a seemingly lower voice…and somebody was holding his arm. 

"Nikita…_Nikita_…can you hear me?"

"_WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!_"

The shouting was leaving a stinging, whining residue of noise in his head, and he wished that whoever was contributing it would stop. On the contrary, though, it seemed to be getting louder.

"Nikita…Niki…please let me know if you can hear me."

"_WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU GIVE HIM, YOU STUPID BITCH!_"

There was crying and murmuring the background. Niki opened his eyes, found the room still spinning, and closed his eyes once more, raising his hand slightly to give a sign of semi-consciousness. It seemed to be Argo's voice that was low and inquiring…and Gomora was shouting.

"_WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU_ –"

"Gomora, that's not helping!", Argo interrupted loudly, pressing his huge forefinger against Niki's wrist.

The voice in the background continued weeping.

"H-He told me he _wanted_ it!", Luna seemed to be wailing from nearby.  
"He s-said that he _wanted_ a Red Bison! I d-didn't know-!"

It became clear to Niki now that it was Gomora who was holding his head up. From overhead, he heard the red Experiment's snarling.

"Stupid, fucking, idiotic _cunt_!", he spat in rage, Niki's head seemingly being the only thing that kept him from jumping up and lashing out at the wailing barhand.

"You shut your goddamn mouth, you fucking creep", Sula's voice came over Luna's crying.

"_That's enough!_"

A new voice joined and seemed to silence the fray: DJ Nebular seemed to have descended from his top box, and had pushed his through what Niki thought must've been at least a crowd of onlookers. Voices fell silent at the DJ's command, though Niki still heard Gomora growling.

"How is he, Argo?", Nebular asked, after a moment of silence.

Argo removed the tip of his huge finger from Niki's wrist and replied;  
"I think the alcohol got to him…maybe even alcohol poisoning."

"_Alcohol poisoning?_", Niki repeated to himself, inside of his hurting head.  
"_But Red Bison isn't supposed to be boozy_…"

"What was he drinking?", Nebular asked aloud.

"Red Bison!", Aries' voiced replied.

Nebular's voice came again;  
"What kind?...Luna, which kind did he have?"

Luna's sobbing stifled for a moment, and Niki envisioned her leaning on Sula for support.

"An…an XD", she replied, tearfully.  
"I-I-I thought because Gomora said that he was driving, he could…he could…"

"He's so small", Argo remarked, the relativity of his own size not coming in the way of the universal statement.  
"There's a good chance that probably was an overdose for him; Red Bison XD's got a considerably high dosage of alcohol. Hold on…"

While Niki thought to himself that he hadn't even drank half of the glass, Argo pushed what felt like a flat straw to his lips.

"Nikita – put this under your tongue for a moment, please."

Niki opened his mouth to allow the foreign object beneath his dry tongue, and wished that Gomora would stop growling around; the vibration it made in his stomach tremored through Niki's head and made him feel sicker.  
An uneasy silence followed while Niki held the instrument under his tongue, not really caring what purpose it served as long as his head wasn't filled with incessant chatter.  
Finally, Argo removed the straw-thing from Niki's mouth and seemed to read it for a moment.

"High level of alcohol in his system…", he announced, to somebody other than Nikita.  
"….But nothing close to alcohol poisoning. Any reactive substances in the Red Bison XD?"

"Alkacitic morphily", DJ Nebular answered.  
"I've read that a percentage of people can't tolerate it…but something like this?"

"Nikita, is this your first time drinking alcohol?", Argo asked.

Niki weakly moved his head from side-to-side.

"D'you think it's serious?", Nebular asked, softly.

"…I'm not sure", Argo replied, tentatively.  
"Nikita, can you speak to me?...just say something – anything at all."

Niki really didn't feel like talking – he felt so sick that he feared to lose something if he dared opened his mouth.  
The growling from overhead had stopped. A moment later, he felt Gomora's hand stroking him across his head, over the fresh scar on his forehead. He didn't want to open his eyes, for fear of seeing Gomora's.

"…I'm here…", the small Experiment managed, quietly, groggily, and drowsily.

"Nikita, how do you feel?"

"…Sick…"

"Can you feel your fingers and toes?"

"…Yes…"

"How does your head feel?"

"…Heavy."

"I think you're drunk."

"Sorry…"

"You're gonna be okay, alright, Niki?"

Niki opened his pink-rimmed eyes at the voice that spoke to him; Gomora, still petting his head, was looking down at him, and Niki couldn't help but notice the wrinkle in his brow and the concern in his eyes. The lights were still dim, and Gomora's dark-brown eyes were shining out from the depth of his face, like watery gems inside of a furry cave wall (Niki felt surprised at himself becoming lyrical). The hand that petted the top of his head was softer than anything that Niki had come to expect from Gomora…and even though he wasn't in a mood to appreciate much of anything at the moment, he admitted to himself that, to a very small extent…he appreciated it.

"Yeah…sure", he answered to Gomora's soothing, drunkenly.

"Your pulse is steady, Nikita – I really don't think you're in any danger", Argo said, after having felt Niki's wrist again.  
"…That is, unless there's something else troubling you?"

"I feel sick…dizzy…", Niki groaned in response.

"Yes, that's to be expected", Argo replied, with a nod and the hint of a smile.  
"But I think you're okay. Can you sit up?"

"My head hurts…"

"I know, Nikita…can you sit up?"

With a timid groan, Niki felt himself being lifted up from behind into a sitting position. For a second, he managed to sit placidly on the cold, linoleum-covered floor…before he felt a terrible rising from his stomach into his throat. His eyes widened for a moment, and he had but a space of three seconds to turn himself onto his side before vomiting his entire breakfast onto the club's floor.  
There was unmistakable take of disgust from the onlooking crowd, even as Niki lay gasping for a moment before another heave emptied his stomach of acid through his mouth, leaving his eyes watering and his entire face burning as badly as it had before. Dying seemed very acceptable at the moment, as Niki lay amongst his own vomit with all eyes upon him, in front of his host and his new acquaintances. Wanting nothing more than to sink into the cold, hard floor, Niki tried to spit the foul-tasting tang from his mouth into the wretched-colored puddle, as though to ask if anybody had anything to say about the situation.  
Peacefully, as though it were a flag of treaty, Argo extended a napkin towards Niki with a tiny smile.

"Here."

Fighting the feeling that Argo really seemed like a nice guy, Niki took the napkin to wipe his mouth with.

"…Thanks…Argo."

"Don't mention it, Nikita."

It was now that DJ Nebular turned towards the crowd of onlookers and directed loudly;  
"Alright, guys – we'll just get this cleaned up and get on with the night; nothing more to see, so give us some space, alright?"

With a murmur, the multi-colored, multi-specied crowd began departing back towards their seats, making a wide circle around Niki, Gomora, Argo, Aries, the DJ, and the puddle of spittle. Niki could see Sula supporting a still-sniffling Luna back towards the bar, after throwing a final sour look towards Gomora, who didn't receive it as he lifted Niki steadily onto his feet.

"It's okay, Niki – I got you", he was saying as he effortlessly (yet tenderly) brought the peach-colored Experiment to his feet, taking care that Niki wouldn't tread into his puddle of vomit.

"I can…stand by myself…", Niki insisted, losing his footing the moment he let go of his crimson comrade, moving Gomora to take hold of his again, holding him up around the shoulders.

Argo had risen back to his feet as well. He and Aries both stepped back once a bouncer smaller than Zeph moved in to clean up the mess on the floor. There was a moment of awkward silence that the four of them simply stood (or were held) without words as DJ Nebular moved back up the stairs to his podium, and Luna was served a complimentary Viquina as she was seated at the bar.

"So…", Gomora spoke to Niki after a moment, giving Niki's shoulder a small squeeze.  
"…Think we should be getting back to my place?"

"Perhaps that'd be a good idea", Argo concurred.  
"Best thing you can do for a hangover is to get some rest…and drink plenty of water."

"And don't drink citric juice; that doesn't turn out good", Aries added, raising a clawed finger as he did.

Gomora nodded as he continued to support Niki, who was looking at the floor.

"How long are you two gonna stay here?", he asked the pair of Shorca and Dragon.

"Oh, probably not much longer", Argo replied, putting his arm around Aries' shoulders.  
"I'm off tomorrow, but if you're on-call, it never hurts too be rested."

Gomora nodded and Niki groaned as he gripped his sweaty brow.

"Well, we'll get back to my place, then", Gomora spoke, as the music overhead began again.  
"I barely had a sip of my own drink, so no need to worry, huh?"

"Just drive carefully, okay?"

"And stay away from the Red Bison!"

"Thanks, Aries…see you guys later."

Still supporting a sweating Niki easily with one arm, and waving goodbye to Argo and Aries, Gomora led Niki towards the club's exit as the music overhead began picking up once more, and the population began moving back towards the now-clean dancefloor.  
As the Experiment pair slowly made their way out of the lengthy doorway, Argo put one of his large, three-fingered hands on Aries's shoulder and eyed the young Dragon with a serious gaze.

"And that's another reason why you shouldn't drink, honey", he told his Dragon-lover.

Aries' eyes went wide at the statement, and his drink in his hand nearly slipped. He looked around hurriedly for a moment, and then pressed it into the hands of the bouncer who had just finished cleaning up the vomit, with a small, terrified squeal.

* * *

It seemed darker outside than before, Niki thought. In addition, the music reverberating from the disco's interiors was the only sound occupying the street night air; the crowd of screaming people from across the street had disintegrated, and Zeph had left his post at the club's entrance. Both ways down the street, not a single vehicle came floating by, and the bright lights of the inner city seemed so far away in the distance.  
Niki groaned as he leaned against Gomora's supporting shoulder, so close to the red Experiment that he could smell his cologne: something soft and spicy, not entirely unlike Gomora. Nevertheless, Niki didn't want to smell Gomora, for the simultaneous reasons that it made him sick to his stomach once more, and that he didn't feel like being this physically close to the guy for whom he felt tensely mixed emotions. 

"You okay, Niki?", Gomora asked, as soon as they had stepped onto the open street, in the direction of his car.  
"I should've said something about her giving the heavy stuff – not that I mean anything, but you're just so…so…please, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Gomora", was Niki's slurred answer, although he wasn't sure if he was being entirely truthful.

Gomora, after all, had been right about him being easily trumped by alcohol: though two years of experience had allowed him to calculate a 'safe' level of intoxication for himself, he remembered all-too-well one of his first experiences. One gulp of beer too many had brought on the same disorientation, vomiting, and eventual feebleness that he felt now. His joints and muscles, now and then, felt like water, and he knew that without Gomora, he wouldn't be standing at all. During the original episode, Mel had been there to call off orders for him and sit at bedside while the two of them had waited for sobriety, with Niki barely able to move.  
Niki was sure that it was due to some flaw in his genetic structure that had likewise rendered physically weak, when he was supposed to have been an elite specimen of the 600-series of Experiments (Jumba had never told him this, but Niki figured that if truth be told, Jumba hadn't set out to make a small, peach, bony, gay Experiment).

"God, I need a cigarette…", he groaned miserably as he and Gomora neared the car.

"I'll get you back to my place, and you can rest there", Gomora replied, seemingly in an attempt to placate him.

"I don't wanna rest – I want a cigarette", Niki insisted dully.

For once (Niki thought), Gomora seemed to be bereft of something to say in reply, and their somewhat-slow trip to Gomora's car passed in silence, sans a few more groans, courtesy of Niki.  
He felt like a limp puppet as Gomora, as gently as he could, lifted him into the passenger seat, and hurried over to the driver's side. With recurring worried looks thrown in Niki's direction, Gomora started his vehicle's engine, and the cruiser slowly lifted itself from the ground and turned in the direction of the main road (luckily, for Niki, _Sewer Flesh_ stayed turned off).

"You're feeling okay, though – right?", Gomora persisted, giving his passenger more attention than the deserted street.  
"I mean, you don't feel like passing out or anything?"

"No…", Niki groaned in reply, resting the side of his head the cool passenger's window.

"You sure?"

"Yeah…"

A few rain drops had fallen upon the window – four, at the most. Pessimistically, it seemed, Gomora turned on his windshield wipers. Niki gave it a bit of a deeper thought, and silently remarked to himself how odd it was that it was raining for the second time in barely two days, within the planet's regulated atmosphere.  
The rain increased its potential quickly, and by the time Gomora had driven the cruiser into the embrace of bright city lights, a determined precipitate was falling flatly and heavily upon the car and its passing neighbors, slightly slowing down the light traffic that coursed through the metropolis' pedestrian-free streets.  
Niki looked at the lights without seeing them, thinking to himself that there simply was no way out of this jungle of concrete and metal, with its tall buildings, deep mortuaries, and swarming cars – cars filled with people careless towards him, and his lifespan of unhappiness. He found no sympathy in the reflections of brightly-colored lights that reflected off of his window, made aquatic neon by the endless rain. There was no love alive for him within the vastness of the entire skyscraper-covered planet, no more than there was room for a forest, a tree, or even a patch of grass. Niki had never seen a forest in his life, but he knew that he had seen, felt, and experienced love, however brief. That feeling that melted his chest with a deep fire, that billowed up beneath his breast and made him feel so much more significant. It was so simple, yet felt so good; elaborately-lighted buildings of profit and pleasure seemed to show off so much for something that could never have paralleled Niki's two nights with Mel. Mel had been the only organic thing within a world of artificial and superficiality – someone who had stood out so significantly, so much more than anything or anybody else on this planet could.  
A sudden surge of sickness arose in Niki's stomach, and he groaned loudly and had too lean from the window to keep the sick from coming all of the way up.

* * *

A short while later, Gomora had steered his car (sick-free) into the high-level garage of the Adamantium Stay, and had managed to likewise steer Niki into the elevator ("_Oh God, no_oo…", Niki had groaned at the sight of it) and, eventually, into the hallway that lead to his room. Allowing his guest to teeter for a moment, Gomora jumped up to unlock the door and quickly helped Niki inside the lighted apartment (Gomora hadn't bothered to turn off the lights when they left for the club). 

"Right – better get you cleaned up, huh?", he asked, receiving a stoic reply, and led Niki into the restroom, to the right of the huge television.

The bathroom was small, compared to the standards of other, larger creatures, but its size, like most other things, dwarfed Niki and Gomora as they entered its premises. Simple in layout, it was composed of a bathtub/shower with a sliding plastic door that faced a single sink, crowned with a rectangular mirror, and to its right stood a toilet. Earlier, Niki had discovered a rack of towels behind the door, of which the cloths all seemed to be property of the hotel. He found it odd that such a large apartment would befit such a small bathroom (or vice-versa), but didn't think about it for very long; Gomora was nervously eyeing the sink, some two feet above both of their heads.

"Uh…usually, I just jump up there…y'know?", he explained, awkwardly.  
"…But I should be able to fix up…something…uh, here – lean on that for a moment…"

Depositing the still-unorthodox Niki against a rack that held magazines (Niki didn't bother checking them, though, if they were in Gomora's bathroom, he had an inkling of what kind of stuff they might contain), Gomora went about collecting various implements and instruments of the bathroom to construct a rather obtuse-looking manner of ladder, composed mainly of empty boxes of shampoo, mousse, and body gel, and a solitary footstool. Niki knew that he would never have attempted to climb it, no matter how drunk he could get, but Gomora had dropped to his side and was grinning, anxiously.

"…I promise I won't letcha' fall", he promised, upon seeing the look of muddled disapproval on his guest's face.

Niki's expression didn't cease, but he sighed and made a meek attempt to shrug his shoulders, helplessly. In conciliation with Gomora's harm-privy plan, he leaned back onto Gomora's shoulder, and allowed Gomora to literally carry him up the structure.  
The sink appeared much fuller than it had from below; Niki estimated that Gomora might've been able to bathe in it. The mirror was body-sized for an Experiment, and looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in a while. The tap water, however, flowed cleanly when Gomora switched it on for Niki, and the smaller Experiment felt significantly relieved at being able to wash the sweat, saliva, and vomit from his face, and to rinse the sour tang out of his mouth. He would've asked if he'd be allowed to take a shower, if he weren't still feeling unbalanced enough to fall over; he knew that he reeked of sweat, and felt disgusting because of it, but he was far from having Gomora prop him up while he was showering.  
As awkwardly as they had ascended, Gomora helped Niki back down his foolhardily-built ladder and out of the bathroom.

"You hungry at all, Niki?", he asked, as the two of them stepped into the spacious living room.  
"I mean, you feeling up to eating? – drinking anything? Some of that iced tea?"

"No…", Niki answered dully, with a small, sick burp.  
"I just wanna rest a bit…"

"Okay, that's cool", Gomora replied, agreeably.  
"You just have a rest, and then…"

Gomora eyed the couch that had bedded Niki last night. The smaller Experiment looked forward to nothing more than being able to lie down and attempt to drown his sickness in sleep, and he wished that Gomora would just help him over to the couch and let him sleep.

"Hey…you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?"

The question hit Niki like the rudest thing that he had experienced during the night. Niki wasn't sure if even the sickness in his stomach would keep him from rebuking in an equally-rude manner. Surely his anger showed in his eyes, penetrating the drowsiness and the moisture left by washing his face.

"I'm not going to sleep in the same bed with you, Gomora", he answered, flatly.

Beneath his fur, Gomora blushed and his expression turn apprehensively scared.

"No – that's not what I meant", he said, quickly, whilst surely feeling the oddness of holding the glaring Nikita close to him.  
"I mean…well, my bed's more comfortable – "

"I don't care."

"…and I'd sleep on the couch. See, I got some work to do for my job, and usually I work in the living room…so I can use the telephone, y'see?...heating's better in my room, too."

Niki eyed Gomora's face without having dropped his surly expression. He surveyed the contours of the red Experiment's features, searching for some hint on deceit or dishonesty among the wrinkled contours of Gomora's steadily-built face.  
For a moment, he imagined the presence of a piercing on his eyebrow, but found a moment later that it didn't suit in either visualization or character.  
He knew that in his tired, intoxicated mind, he couldn't begin to undertake the task of confirming any kind of feeling. He didn't know what (or if) Gomora was implying in letting Niki sleep in his bed. The talk of doing work for his job, Niki recognized even in his intoxication, was complete nonsense which he didn't believe for a moment…but no matter what his excuse was, it was to allow Niki to sleep in his bed. Niki hadn't had a bed of his own for two years, and he had no idea what significance it was to move one's guest from couch to one's own bed.  
The notion was, nonetheless, surprising and disturbing at the same time, and he sincerely wished that he could just be dumped back onto the couch without any problem.  
But he so very tired.

"…Okay", Niki finally uttered, hanging his head.  
"I just want to sleep…"

"Great – you'll have no problem with that in my bed", Gomora assured him, smiling anxiously.

Niki gave no reply as Gomora led him hurriedly into his room – the only unlit space. Gomora didn't bother to turn on the light as he helped Niki around the side of the bed, upon which the light's illumination stopped just short of the sword hanging above the headboard. Niki said nothing as Gomora took him into his arms to climb him up the bed's five-foot height. Gomora gently deposited the peach Experiment upon the bed's fluffy sheets, making sure that his head was properly laid upon the pillows. Niki secretly enjoyed this bedware: it was cool and cushy, and his head sank tenderly into comfy confines of the pillow. The bed had been made, surprisingly, and Gomora pulled the sheets back for Niki to lie down.

"You, uh, gonna sleep with your clothes on?", he asked, timidly, as if the question had some significance.

Niki rubbed his tired, woozy forehead and turned his gaze away from the light that the door's opening permitted. To his right, he could see the darkened shape of Gomora's large closet, filled with bedware and whatever else Gomora kept inside of it.

"…I don't think so", he answered quietly, staring at the shadow.

"Okay – that's cool", Gomora replied.  
"I'll stay out…I mean, don't wanna catch you naked or anything…s'it matter, though? – around the lab, all of us ran around with no clothes on."

Niki gave a soft sigh.

"Yeah…"

"Don't worry, though", Gomora attempted to assure him.  
"I'll let you have your sleep – sleep that mess out of your system, okay?"

A subtle nod served as Niki's reply. He closed his eyes, attempting to shut out anything that connected him to the waking world.

"Cool, cool – you just sleep; I'll go to bed on the couch in a short while", he heard Gomora say, and he answered with a small nod.

A few seconds of silence passed in which Niki was glad that his eyes were closed, but a short while later, he felt Gomora hop from the top of the bed to the floor and make his away around the bed, to the door. Slowly, Niki felt the beam of light that lay across his face cease away until it was a miniscule blot inn the darkness of his closed eyes, and he heard Gomora walk a bit into the living room.  
Feeling disgusting in his sweat-soaked clothes, he pulled off his vest and slacks and dropped them on the floor. He mustered enough energy to pull the blanket halfway up to chest before collapsing, exhausted, into the cushy gorgence of the bed, feeling the seduction of sleep nipping away at his consciousness like the power of evaporation to a layer of water. Growing ever so tired, and reminiscently glad that his head and stomach weren't hurting so much anymore, Niki turned onto his side and was asleep within minutes. He went to sleep with a hint of the notion that he had forgotten Mel's urn in the living room.

* * *

Somewhere between a dream and being asleep, Niki woke back up – not entirely, but barely by a stirring of his ears. He heard footsteps coming way. His first instinct being defensive, he feigned to continue sleeping whilst the footsteps inside of the room neared him. There was some rustling and a light thumping noise, and then, silence…sans the sound of someone breathing.  
For some reason, Niki didn't feel alarmed. Was this the breathing of a specter, waiting for him to open his eyes to take him from the world of the living? Was it the sandman, coming to reinforce his trade?  
The mystery was broken by Gomora's voice, which entered the dark serenity of the room and addressed a Niki, who was still presumed to be in deep, hung-over sleep. 

"God…why do you make me feel like this? – like I'm about to faint when I'm close to you?"

He sounded as though he wanted to say more, but for some reason, he refrained from saying more, and simply commenced his soft breathing. A moment later, Niki felt a single finger stroke over the back of his palm, which he hadn't noticed was hanging over the edge of the bed.  
Gomora retreated to the living room a short while later. Niki heard sounds of the television for a while before the lights were completely extinguished, and Gomora was no longer to be heard. He dared to retrieve his arm from over the bed, and opened his eyes just long enough to see that Gomora had delivered a waste basket and a bottle of water to the side of his bed.

* * *

"_You just ain't receiving  
"Your phone is off the hook  
"Your doors are all shut_"  
-_All Is Full of Love_, Björk

* * *

(_A/N: first of all, thank you to the select few people who took the time to review my last chapter.  
__A special thanks to ImperatorJim – some things you wrote in your review are part of the reason why I began writing this fic. Thanks a bunch for your positive commerce.  
__Little can be said about this chapter that doesn't speak for itself; all that I can say is that the slow progression of their relationship is surprising even me, and that the complexities upon which their relationship is built are yet to be fully revealed…so stay tuned for the next chappie!_) 


	16. Smjúga

(_A/N: welcome, dear readers, to the latest chapter of Elisir. Please feel free to meet me at the end of this chapter for some more words; carry on_…_and please forgive me poor attempt to composea rap_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 16

* * *

Around the universe, some Experiments were dead. Others commandeered spaceships, while others inhabited either temporary or indefinite dwellings across the galaxies, all the way to the outward rim. Some lived solo, for reasons of either apathy or fear of risking others. Some existed adrift with friends, in groups of two or more Experiments traveling or living together. Some Experiments lived with their mates. Some even had offspring, accomplishing the dream of Jumba's of creating a reproductive, sustaining species.  
One of these creatures, barely a year and a half old, currently sat upon the surface of a large, metropolin planet, inside of an aged building, in a cool, stone lounge, upon an older, plushed couch, spooning through a lukewarm food container. His light-colored eyes were tired, and he ate with a lack of gusto usually reserved for the mentally shattered or prisoners of war.  
His vest was the brightest that it would ever be whilst in his possession – a brownish shade of maroon. His slacks were his own, one-and-a-quarter years old, and slightly frayed at its bottoms. Shoes had never been a commodity for him, and he didn't necessarily need them.  
His clothes sustained the image set by his face; as he stirred the contents of his container, he gave a small sigh and hung his head. 

"Oh, c'mon, babe – this was the outgoing special!"

The second voice belonged to an Arhk, who was dressed as though he were cross between a pop musician and a fortune-teller. He lounged at the opposite end of the couch with an attitude of near-luxury that polarized his comrade's, as he ladled the inside of his container for the remaining goo of his pureed nakku.  
The peach-colored fellow, in response, sighed again, and emptied his nakku container with a spoonful.

"…No, the food's fine, Mel", he said, softly, whilst standing up.

"So what's with the sighing and the making of the long faces, hmm?", the Arhk asked, in return.

The smaller creature strode across the short length of the polygonal space and deposited his food container in the trash can.

"…Be a pal, wouldya, Niki-hon?", Mel added, throwing his own container to Niki, who deposited it, likewise.  
"Thanks."

Niki walked back to the couch, slumped down, and leaned his elbows onto his knees. He closed his eyes and wished for warmth.

"C'mon – tell me what's up", he heard Mel insist, and felt the Arhk scoot closer to him.

Niki looked up and breathed through his fingers. He collected his thoughts for a moment, then turned his face towards his friend.

"…Do you ever watch TV and…see some of the things that…well, they say?"

Mel shrugged his shoulders.

"They say a lot of stuff, Niki…what kind of things do they talk about?"

Niki's dangling feet swayed aimlessly above the ground; he watched them with a certain looklesness before answering. When he did, he spoke timidly, as though he didn't want to speak out loud.

"Well…y'know…people that make music, and stuff", he drawled, quietly.  
"…People who get onto the charts, and they say stuff like…"

"'_Day afta day, Ah bin workin' these bitch-ass, bitch-ass hoes, workin' 'em to they bitch-ass bones, they bitch-ass bones, and every day they's ridin' on them whatever whatever_'", Mel recited, as if on cue, mimicking (at least in-part) the chart-topping solo of a famous hip-hop artist.

Niki looked at Mel in surprise, and found his friend grinning bemusedly.

"I thought that it was catchy", he admitted.

Niki's face fell into discern, and he turned away.

"…Hey, now, c'mon, hon – I didn't mean…that!", the Arhk proclaimed, hurriedly, as he scooted over too the other end of the couch, next to Niki.  
"C'mon, you…I know what you mean."

The small creature continued to gaze at the bland wall, not really wanting to talk anymore. He wasn't angry at Mel, not really…but as he sat there, stoic and unmoving, he was forced to accept the unwelcome opportunity that had presented itself to once more muse over his plight.  
It was almost exactly one year to the date of his initial induction into the pouf. For the most part, not much had changed: Niki expected himself to be called on to serve someone at least once or twice a day, sometimes as much as three times, and he still led whoever the customer was into a random room in the either of the two long hallways to performs acts so disgusting and heinous that he would occasionally vomit for thinking about it. Experience is all which he had gained, and even though it was experience that had made things more bearable for him, at the moment, it seemed pretty redundant and useless.

Niki had never had sexual intercourse before becoming a part of the dominated commune, and when he had first been introduced to it against his will, the tearing pain and the deep shame had been unbearable (he didn't remember too much about that night, except for meeting Mel and falling asleep upon the bench he sat on at the moment); the overall excursion of the sensations had since lost some of its edge, but the deadening, dehumanizing stab of humiliation struck him every time, at every click of the closing door, and every time he stood in front of a customer, being told just what to do too insinuate an orgasm that would not be his own. Niki hated orgasms – the feel of it on his fur, inside of him, and its taste were absolutely abhorrent; it was all that he could do to keep from getting sick at its happening.

Sometimes afterwards, if Mel wasn't around at the time, Niki would sit upon the unmade bed and watch TV; he didn't really enjoy watching television, even when he had been living in the lab, but it was all that he could do, since he wasn't permitted to leave the building. He would watch news and politics that were all but irrelevant to him, reruns of movies, weekly programs, and he skipped over the pornographic channel, filled with filth of the likes of which he couldn't comprehend why it appealed to people: what pleasure could be gained from such a grotesque display of bestial lust between two strangers, disposable to all once an orgasm had been reached? Niki was positive of himself that he would have never even considered this 'line' of 'work' if he had been given the chance of his own decision; he was without means to understand why anybody would consciously choose it.

If he flipped just beyond this explicit channel, he came upon the music video station, which played the latest and most popular singles off of the music charts.  
This is where it started – the feeling of discomfort that crept up Niki's back and into his head. No other television channel had the ability to do this to him – this awful, tingling sensation that made him sick and hurt at the same time.  
Rap and hip-hop music was terrifically 'in' at the time, and it seemed incorporated in just about every aspect of commercial advertising. Creatures of all species (exempt, seemingly, Dragons and Shorcans) donned the unique attire worn by the big names in the business, and everybody who seemed able to hold a microphone was featured on the music channel, stringing words together and attempting to appear commercially and sexually appealing. As said before, Niki didn't care to listen to much of any music, but this current wave of styling caught his ears: it didn't matter to him that the language used by these characters was often coarse and uneducated (he had heard worse), and it didn't matter to him that the stench of arrogance that seemed to hang around the artists gave him the feeling that, personally, they'd never want him as a fan…what mattered to him, enough to take notice, was their handling of the subject of prostitution.

No matter whom they were and no matter how bad they sounded, each rapper, hip-hopper, or any other artist treading into this genre seemed obligate themselves to vocalize about at least three things: where they came from, their dissention towards homosexuals, and their experiences with prostitutes. The latter is what got to Niki. He had never considered himself a prostitute (for a prostitute was something that an individual chose to become, by their own decision; Niki wasn't quite sure what he was to be called, since he was literally imprisoned to perform sexual acts for money which wouldn't be his own…but he figured that the term 'slave' was quite accurate), but to hear the voices of these publicly-broadcasted characters explain in detail how they manhandled a certain female, what she did for them, and how they threw change at her…it was surreal. As if it were a revelation, Niki had simply stared at the television screen for some time, taking in what these people had to rap about their sexual activities with "bitch-ass hoes", and not quite being able to grasp the feeling which it instilled in him.

It was something somewhere between outrage, surprise, hatred, and awe – was _this_ how _he_ was really perceived? Is this what people thought he really was?  
Niki didn't really care to think of how his customers portrayed him in their minds, but he stopped to think, upon hearing this music, if this is how the entire universe would perceive him, if they knew his life.  
It was as though he were back in the lab, hearing sniggers and rumors of other Experiments claiming that he was a guy-obsessed, masturbating fanatic, who _deserved_ to be hit in the face – would the entire universe tend to think of him as a sex-crazed, sordid submissive, who _deserved_ to have his brains "fucked out"?  
Niki couldn't quite conceive it – was there really no help or sympathy at all out there for him?  
Niki turned to Mel, quite aware of how anxious he looked.

"…I don't like doing this, Mel", he claimed, quietly, to his friend.  
"I've never liked it…I hate lying down for people who pay for it."

"I know, baby, I know", Mel tried to assure him, but to no avail, as Niki went on.

"You don't think that I actually like being treated like this? – like a piece of trash?", he asked, louder than before.  
"I hate it! I fucking hate it!"

"I know you do, Niki."

"Then why do they say that we do? Why do they say, oh, 'this bitch sucked my dick and I made her scream', and stuff like that? Why do they try to make us seem like we actually want to be doing what we're doing? Why do they say we fucking live for it?"

He was shaking, now. His small hands were clenched into angry fists, and literally looked more violent than Mel had ever seen him. Though skinny and famished, the Arhk might've been wary of his emotion, had he not been this creature's only friend.  
Understanding Niki's plight, and knowing exactly what he meant, Mel nodded as he eyed his companion.

"I know, Niki, honey…I know."

Niki sat stoic for a few moments, still angered at the audacity of his exploitation. He was often angered at the fact that he was living a life that he had no control over changing, but the open publication and commercialization of his misfortune, not to mention those of countless other individuals across the universe, infuriated him. How dare they – these talentless, foul-mouthed princes of the music waves – use their misfortunes for their own commercial gain? It wasn't fair at all.  
A minute later, Niki's fired had burned out, and he slumped forward, his head in his hands as he sighed, heartlessly. He felt dejected, all of the sudden, and didn't want to think at all.

"Why do they have to be like that, Mel?", he asked, quietly, not looking up.  
"Why is it us, all the time?...why me?"

The Arhk leaned forward and petted Niki across his spiny back a few times, before putting his hands on the Experiment's shoulders and pulling him back up. He hugged Niki, with one arm, against his side, and petted the top of his head with his remaining hand. Niki sniffed once and allowed himself to fall into the embrace entirely, resting his ear against Mel's shoulder, hoping that the smell and touch of his comforter would be enough to take the stinging from his mind.

"Here – calm down, first", Mel was telling him, as he petted his soft, furry head.  
"That's right. Let me hold you for a while."

Niki did just so, snuggling against his fragrance-scented friend as he tried to clear his mind of everything that bothered him. In a process that seemed similar to falling asleep, Niki instead tried to fill his mind with all that he held dear…and all which he held dear happened to come in the form of the Arhk who was holding him.  
Something about Mel calmed him, and generally made him feel better. It wasn't just being held – often, just the sight of Mel would brighten his constant gloomy mood. There was something in that smile, that smell, and those eyes of the Arhk which seemed to lift him from the dirt and slime that surrounded him, otherwise, and gave him the greatest feeling which he had ever felt in his life – that he wasn't alone.  
After a while of hugging the little guy and attempting to ease his excitement, Mel released him from the embrace but kept his arm around Niki's shoulders, while he looked into the eyes of the his companion; they were two deep with rent than they should ever be, for someone so small.

"You okay, now?", he asked Niki.

Niki nodded, and Mel smiled.

"Great", he proclaimed, and gave Niki's shoulder a small shake.  
"But what about those jokers who call themselves recording artists, huh?"

Tenderly, the Arhk coerced Niki to lie down, with his head in Mel's lap. Niki moved slowly, but once that he was secured, with his head resting on his friend's legs, he came to appreciate a pillow which didn't smell like a hundred other people.

"We've got…fifty billion fools…", Mel went on, stroking Niki's forehead.  
"..in bad clothing, absolutely horrendous, who are able to jump aboard the commercial train of music that's picked up, and are able to get at least one single out because the business is booming and they have the ability to string together three words that rhyme. They have no creative ability beyond that, so they focus to sing, rap, or whatever on a subject that's so general to this genre that no one's going to say anything about it. They think that if they be very explicit about it, they can stay on for just one more single…so they bust out any trash they can, talkin' about hookers and fucking all they can, just to try and stay on…because stepping on the backs of people is often the choice road to success. And anybody who tries to perform about anything that's too positive or supportive to the scapegoats of the genre is not even given a chance. It's as simple as that."

Mel gently tapped Niki's forehead with the base of one of his clawed fingers.

"You're not here because you want to be", Mel told him, his words coming out in directed beats.  
"None of us are – at least not here. Somebody who wants to fuck for cash is one thing, but you are not here for anything concerned with your own good – nobody has the right to call you a hooker…or a prostitute."

Mel had grown very direct as he spoke, as though he wanted to be sure that Niki understood and believed every word that he was telling him.

"These rappers and people of the sort…", he went on, looking into Niki's eyes.  
"…they have to talk bad about somebody else to get ahead. That's the entire focus of the genre, at the moment, and it's becoming the lamest excuse for music on the market. Most of these rappers, whatever their names are, would be too stupid to find their own dicks if some sluts weren't always sucking on them. They're definitely too dumb to keep up a solid career – have you seen many of them stay on for more than a year? They're poor excuses for musicians, Niki, and what they say can't touch you. You're stronger than any of them could ever be, and whatever they say about you or me or anybody else who has to live like this is worthless. Just plain worthless. You're worth a million of them, Nikita…and you have to know and remember that. You're better than all of the rest."

Niki wasn't sure if he had ever listened to anybody so avidly, ever before. He wasn't sure if he had understood everything that Mel had said…but everything that he had said had penetrated his mind and managed to push out any interfering thoughts and feelings which he was holding onto. As Niki looked up into the purple, scaled face of the Arhk, he had been told things which he had always wanted to be told without knowing. Nobody had ever attempted to make it so clear to Niki that no, he wasn't useless, no, he wasn't expendable or disposable, and yes, he was worth something…a very great amount of something.  
Niki couldn't remember anybody ever telling him anything like this before – not Jumba, not any other Experiment, and certainly nobody in this place. Nobody had ever tried to make it clear that he mattered, and mattered a lot. He didn't know if Mel had meant everything which he had said, and he didn't know if he had exaggerated at all, in an attempt to placate Niki…but if the Arhk's voice, eyes, and the feeling inside Niki's chest were to be true…then Mel had just told him a truth that he, too, seemed to believe in.  
Niki lay there for a while, silently, his head in Mel's lap, as the two creatures stared into eachother's eyes, simultaneously finding a meaning within eachother that was exclusive between the two of them, and all that they shared.  
Mel had stopped stroking Niki's head, and now, he just cradled the Experiment's slightly-ovalled head in his hands. Niki reached behind his head, slowly, and placed one of his hands over Mel's.

"Mel…do you mean all of that?", he asked, the revelation of worth still new on him.

Unsmiling, with integrity ashine in his face, Mel nodded and answered the Experiment;

"Of course…every bit of it."

Niki wasn't sure of how to reply, and Mel wasn't sure how to add on to hi confession. For a short while, their eyes averted eachother, as they both eyed something in the room while they could ponder.

"…Mel?"

"Yes, Niki?"

"What's your favorite kind of music?"

"Oh, nothing, really…although that Emperor guy has got some things to say, if you ask me."

"…"

"And what about you, Niki-honey?"

"…I heard this one guy sing once…I think his name was…Ayne?"

"I'll buy you an Ayne CD as soon as I can."

"…I don't have anything to listen to it."

"Well, I'll buy you one as soon as you do. Because, you know, it's gonna get better for us, right?"

"Right, Mel."

"I'm serious, Niki – ya just gotta believe!"

"I wanna believe that I'm gonna wake up one morning and all of this will have been just a bad dream."

"Please be selective and allow me to remain, _En-Ki-Ta_ – I've grown pretty fond of those eyes of yours."

"Oh, don't."

"And that cute belly of yours…"

"_Meeel_…"

"And that sexy ass…"

"_Mel!_"

Niki couldn't help but crack up at his friend's relentlessness, and he turned onto his side in an attempt to hide his laughter from the Arhk, who took the opportunity to fall upon Niki and begin tickling him. Squealing in laughter and in effect to Mel's fingers, Niki was driven to the floor by the Arhk, who rolled on top of him and mercilessly teased his sides, his armpits, and his neck.  
A female Luik entered the corner lounge, on her way to the bathroom, and spotted, with no small difficulty, the hysterical pair rolling around on the floor, neither of whom acknowledged her entrance.  
She shook her head, and, as she headed into the facilities, muttered under her breath;  
"_Fags_."

Mel continued tickling Niki with one hand while he flashed his middle-fingered salute at the Luik's back – the claw of his middle finger, appropriately, had been decorated not only with lacquer, but with rhinestones.  
Breaking the sound of their laughter, the wretched voice of the big boss crackled over the pouf's PA system, stopping the pair short as they heard;  
"_Kita, come to the front; you're up_."

The Experiment's mood fell faster than a rock, as he literally seemed to die down beneath Mel, the smile fading from his face and the color from his eyes. He looked up at Mel, and he sighed, sadly.

"Sorry…", he apologized, his voice sounding degraded and toneless.

"Don't be", Mel insisted, standing up and gripping Niki's hand to pull him up.  
"Should I go and see if I can fill in for you?"

"No…", Niki replied, his head hanging as he straightened his vest and slacks.  
"You were busy all morning, earlier; you were in there for so long…"

Mel shrugged.

"Doesn't matter…I was asleep half of the time, anyway", he claimed.

But Niki only shook his head and sighed again. He walked passed Mel and reached out for the door, opening it with a small creak.

"Hey", he heard Mel say behind him.  
"I'll see if I can secure us dinner for later, huh?"

Niki nodded.

"That'd be nice."

He turned back to Mel, and gave him his weakest attempt at a smile.

"See ya in a while, huh?"

"Tell 'em ya got AIDS."

"…What?"

Niki blinked at Mel, who had a bit of a smile of an idea forming around his mouth.

"Tell 'em ya got AIDS – really drive it into the ground. Nobody will want to touch you."

"…But how do I get the guy off?"

"…Give him a handjob."

"_Kita – now_."

Mel nodded emphatically at Niki, who gave a slight nod back as he pondered the idea. He gave Mel a small wave and one last smile before stepping through the doorway and into the hallway…just as he heard the bathroom door open in the lounge and Mel advancing on the girl Luik with the words;  
"Now listen here, you cum-sucking bitch…"

Niki walked slowly down the hallway, past the doors that decorated the right-hand-side of the corridor, some of them occupied with the sounds of prostitution. Niki set his hands into his pockets and sighed to himself again, wishing dearly to himself that the entire damn building would just blow up. It didn't, and he reached the end of the hallway, and he opened the door and stepped onto the balconied mezzanine which hung over the entrance hall. As usual, the boss, in a dirty shirt, sat behind his counter; in front of him, looking somewhat excited and impatient, was a somewhat-heavy-set Pondorian. Niki didn't even bother hoping that his customer would be anyone else; he had never been a lucky individual.  
After noticing his entrance, the boss motioned towards Niki with his head, and the tanned customer with the heavy brow began heading towards the stairs, approaching Nikita, who had managed to don his mask of emotionlessness – it was his only barrier between himself and anybody who paid to be with him.

"He told me you'd be in make-up", the Pondorian remarked, once he stood across from Niki, still looking excited.

Niki shrugged.

"He made a mistake. C'mon."

Niki lead the Pondorian from the balcony to the left-wing corridor, opposite of the one from where he had approached. Walking past the identical rooms, Niki eventually found a door which wasn't locked, and he led his customer inside and closed the door behind him.  
Occasionally, this sequence of the procedure might've been filled with awkwardness, with neither party knowing whether to make the next move…but, in the case of the Pondorian, the customer seemed quite zealous in his 'mission'.

"So! Ya ready?", he exclaimed noisily, striding over to the bed and sitting down to remove his galoshes.

Niki advanced towards him timidly; at this point, he was truly worried about how the size difference between their bodies was going to work out.

"…Yeah…", he answered slowly, after a moment.

"I tell ya…", the Pondorian went on, pulling off his last boot.  
"…when I asked for a cute, short guy, I was expecting something, but…goddamn, your cute little ass just passed all of my expectations."

Niki nodded, dreading the future, as he climbed on top of the bed and slowly removed his vest.

"Man!", the customer kept up, taking off his own vest and unbuckling the belt of his pants.  
"I mean, who would've ever thought that I'd enjoy fucking guys more than girls, huh? Just that feeling ya got about ya – I mean, I know it's a guy, but ya just feel so much like a girl, y'know? It's fucking wonderful; I can tell that you're gonna be a dream."

Niki might've wondered if he had ever met the Pondorian before, but at the moment, he had other things to worry about – whatever the Pondorian had in his pants, considering the size of him, just wasn't going to be the least bit in agreement with Niki and his body. Niki estimated that he weighed about forty-five pounds…the Pondorian, he figured, had to be over two hundred.  
Nervously, he began working on his own pants, absolutely terrified of what he knew he would have to encounter, if he wanted to stay alive.

"…Have you ever done this before?", Niki asked, timidly, as he unzipped his pants.  
"…I mean, with a guy?"

"Hell yeah", the Pondorian replied, entirely naked except for his undergarment, which he was working to likewise remove.

"…How often?", Niki pressed, realizing his only chance of getting out of this situation lay in the customer's answer.

"Just once", the Pondorian answered.  
"With another guy hooker, three days ago."

Niki realized that he now had a chance.

"Oh…have you told your family and friends?"

"What, that I fucked a guy hooker?"

"Well, yeah…have you told your doctor?"

"…Why?"

The Pondorian had stopped his lively enunciation, barely a stitch away from being entirely nude. Niki, shirtless and with his pants unzipped, made a silent prayer that the lie that he was about to perform would appear authentic enough to convince the Pondorian, whose sudden pause had gained Niki leeway to continue his plan.

"Well…you're infected now, aren't you?", the Experiment went on, turning around to face his fat client.  
"Aren't you gonna get yourself looked at?"

"Infected with what?", the Pondorian asked, attempting to conceal a building nervousness that didn't escape Niki.

"HIV", Niki answered, as though it were common to know such a thing.  
"Maybe even AIDS, already."

"…Where'd I get HIV or AIDS from?", the Pondorian asked, beginning to look stupid as he sat still in his underpants.

"From sleeping with a guy", Niki replied matter-of-factly.  
"That's all it takes."

"Nuh-uh!", the Pondorian insisted, a bit angrily now.  
"You don't get HIV or AIDS just by sleeping with a guy!"

"Of course you do. We all have it."

"Who all has it?"

"Gay guys."

"That's not true! If that were true, why are y'all still alive and not all dead?"

"We will be. Don't you watch television? – watch the religious channels, and the political commentaries, and they'll let you know when exactly we're all gonna be gone."

"…That's not true!"

The Pondorian was sweating, now, though not from lust. His watery eyes were fixed upon Niki in a mixture of anger, surprise, and fear. Niki would've smiled, but he knew that he wasn't out of the situation quite yet.

"Of course", he insisted, calmly and sincerely as he stared down the customer.  
"Every gay guy has at least HIV. That's why they call us gay."

"But I'm not gay!", the Pondorian insisted audibly, now quite visibly upset.

"That's not what they'll think if you're infected", Niki countered.  
"The only people who die from AIDS are gay guys and drug users."

"That's not true!"

"No?"

"No-!...besides, I'll use a condom."

"Those things the guy at the front gave you are the 'natural fiber' kind – they rip like you wouldn't believe."

The Pondorian reeked of sweat by now, and he stood up in frustration, his pudgy body shaking as he clenched his fists, and his pants rested at his ankles. Under any other circumstances, Niki would've felt sorry for the guy, but he also knew that he was one step away from getting away from the shame of being used as someone else's sex toy.

"Look", he said, consolingly.  
"You might not have gotten infected from that other guy, but I _definitely_ have HIV. If it doesn't bother you to have it, yourself, we can go ahead and do it, but if you ask me, you'd be taking a chance by trying it twice."

The Pondorian eyed Niki with an expression of scrutinized disbelief and an equal measure of wariness: it was obvious that he wasn't in full belief of Niki's talk, but he was likewise worried whether or not it carried any validity, and the potential risk that it held if it did.  
The Pondorian looked very uncomfortable, all of the sudden – sitting there, naked, and worried about whether or not he had turned himself HIV-positive.

"…So…how else do we do it?", he asked after a while, shifting slightly in his sweat.  
"…Do you blow me, or what?"

"We can do that, too", Niki replied with a shrug.  
"But just so that you know, it can be also passed through saliva."

"…Now that's not true."

"It is."

"…No, it isn't…"

"Are you sure of it?"

"…."

Niki could've jumped for joy; he knew at that moment that he had outsourced his customer.

"I tell you what", he told the Pondorian, straightening up.  
"I'll just come over there and rub you off, okay? – no chance of spreading it like that."

"…Are you sure of it?", the customer asked – this time, very timidly.

"Of course", Niki answered with a nod.  
"My boss wants to keep up his business, and he doesn't do it by letting his clients go and catch HIV."

There was a short while of silence, while the Pondorian pondered his own safety.

"…Okay", he said quietly, after a while, sitting back down.  
"…We can do it like that. I paid for it, anyway."

Niki nodded and crawled over to the Pondorian, who finally removed his underpants.  
They were finished in two minutes.

* * *

Niki stood alone in the room, a few minutes later. A lit cigarette which he held between two of his fingers fumed smoke over the smell of the customer's sweat, while the holo-window displayed a small sundown.  
Niki had been successful in his attempt to out-psyche his customer, and had saved himself an evening of unwanted sex, and a morningful of sore buttocks. Whether or not the boss had been surprised to see the Pondorian come back down the stairs so quickly, and whether or not the customer had run Niki's nonsense-story past the boss didn't matter at the moment, as Niki partook to his nicotine addiction with smooth, occasional pulls, standing otherwise as still as a statue inside of a room that might've shepparded his pain and shame of the night.  
He wasn't sure what he should think of his own story – what about everybody who had sex with a guy being gay, and every gay individual being HIV-positive. On his own, he had considered the latter statement to be a lie, but he pondered the statement concerning sex and sexuality…and wondered, for what would be the first time but not the last, if sleeping with males, despite unwillingly, made him gay. 

He really didn't know; he had never before considered sexuality. He didn't approached his admired Experiment in the cafeteria, after all, because he thought that he, himself, Experiment 621, was gay – he approached him because he had a crush on him. That didn't make him a homosexual, did it?  
Niki had no problem with the term of idea of 'homosexual' – he didn't know why it bothered other people so much, or why it could become such a controversial topic of media and politics. He personally had no problem with it…but would he ever want to admit that he was one?  
What good was such a confession, when all it led to was ridicule and hate from other people? What possible goodness could come out of being the sole target of aggression for so many people?  
Niki didn't know the answer, and, at the time, he didn't want to care about. He took another drag from his cigarette and shook the thoughts from his head.  
Behind him, the door creaked open. Niki turned around, expecting to see either his boss or even the returning Pondorian. It was neither.

"Hi, Mel."

The Arhk stepped into the room, with a grin on his contoured face as he approached the Experiment.

"Heard of your success", he stated, before giving Niki a hearty pat on the back.  
"Well done, you chameleon."

Niki nodded, unsuccessful at suppressing a grin of him own.

"Oh, baby – now what are you doing that for?", Mel exclaimed a second later, waving the cigarette smoke from his face and stepping away from Niki.  
"Do you have to smoke those things? – those things'll do you in faster than anything else!"

"Sorry, Mel", Niki apologized, and stubbed out his cigarette butt in the ashtray.  
"You know how it is…you talk your way out of sex in the evening, smoke a cigarette afterwards…"

Mel grinned and grimaced at the same time, displaying the wide range of dexterity of the Arhk's face.

"You'd do better not to smoke those – I mean it", he spoke, waving the smoke around the room.  
"It'll probably mess up this thing, here…"

Mel reached into his pocket and pulled forth a white strip of what looked like fluorescent plastic. He handed it to Niki who took it into his hand and studied it.

"…What is it?", he asked.

"Well, I got to thinking about that story I suggested that you tell…", Mel began, slowly, shifting slightly in his stance.  
"…you've had to sleep with a lot of people since you came here…I wanna be sure that you haven't caught anything."

Niki stared from Mel to the strip; the possibility had never occurred to him.

"…So this is…?", he asked softly, after a few moments.

"It tests for HIV", Mel answered quickly, his hands in his pockets.  
"All you gotta do is take a leak across the strip and it shows up – blue for negative, red for positive."

Niki continued to gaze at the strip in his hand, considering, for the first time, that in all of the people whom he had serviced to, at least one or more might've been carried a transmittable disease. The thought of it, brought on so suddenly, was quite frightening.

"…Mel…", Niki managed, uncertainly, before the Arhk took charge.  
"C'mon, you."

Gripping Niki by the shoulders, Mel pushed and steered the Experiment into the hallway, passed a pair of Ven prostitutes (or were they just customers?), and all the way down the next hallway and into the bathroom.

"…But I don't have to go!", Niki cried out as Mel hurried him into a stall and shut the door behind him.

"Concentrate!", Mel (more or less) ordered him.  
"C'mon, Niki! I did it, too!"

"And what did yours say?"

"You gotta do it, first!"

Niki anxiously moved around inside of the stall, wondering how Mel was to conceive him using the bathroom while in such a stressed state.

"_Meeelll_…", he begged.  
"Please let me out!"

"C'mon, Niki…", Mel pleaded back from the other side.  
"…Do it for me, okay?"

Niki leaned hopelessly against the door and wondered if crying could gain him leniency from his best friend. He didn't consider it very far, though, and eyed the toilet behind him. They weren't cleaned too often, and were therefore a bit dirty from time-to-time. This wouldn't serve as a plausible excuse for not taking the test, Niki knew, as Mel stood against the door of the stall on the other side.  
The Experiment turned back towards the toilet and sighed pitifully.  
He asked himself why he was so afraid to take the test? – sometimes, when he was alone, he always asked himself whether or not it was better to be dead than to be alive in such an environment. He had never exactly been given a chance to hope for death before, and as he stood there, facing the dirty bowl, he started feeling afraid for himself…for what could be inside of him, of what would take him away from life.

"Please, Niki…"

Mel's voice drifted into the stall, and the Experiment breathed deeply.  
What did it matter, either way? – it wasn't as though he could alternate either what he had and he didn't have or what would bring it to him; that was the jest of it all.  
Niki sighed to himself and looked back at the plastic strip clenched in his hand.  
After all, it was only a strip of plastic…

"…Okay…I'm doing it…"

Mel didn't reply.  
Niki unzipped his pants and waited for a moment (he really didn't feel as though he had to go) before he managed to urinate liberally across the length of the strip of plastic as directed. He set the wet strip on the holder for the toilet paper and pulled his pants back up; he was in no hurry to investigate the strip's result. Only when he had gone as far as to wipe down the toilet with paper did he take hold of the strip of plastic and hold it up to the light.

"…_So?_", Mel called impatiently over the top of the stall, after nearly a minute of silence.  
"What's it say?"

There was another spout of silence…then the door opened, and Niki stepped outside, still looking down at his strip of plastic, which was dark within the shadow cast by his head.

"…What is it?", Mel asked, as his voice fell from its excitement down to a wary anticipation.  
"…What's it say, Niki?..._Niki?_"

The small, peach-colored Experiment looked up. Slowly, he held up the strip for Mel to see.

"…Is this correct?", he asked, quietly.

Mel took Niki's wrists and maneuvered them so that the HIV strip caught the light from the lamp overhead.  
In blue letters, the word "NEGATIVE" shone clearly across the strip's dimensions.  
Mel's face melted into a deep smile. Letting go of Niki's wrists, he nodded at the Experiment with satisfaction.

"Yeah…you're a blessed one, Nikita", he told Niki, as his smile glowed brightly as the two of them stood alone in the dank, smelly bathroom.

Slowly, Niki mirrored Mel's grin with one of his own, as emotions between the two radiated in such ways that the _Species_ pouf had never before felt in all of its existence.

"…Niki, baby?"

"…Yes, Mel?"

"…I think I'm gonna buy you an entire stereo system for your Ayne CD."

* * *

(_A/N: whoa…what an unorthodox chapter – unorthodox to write, to edit, and surely to read…I hope it wasn't too bad.  
__Most importantly, I feel, I need to discuss the presence and portrayal of the rap and hip-hop genres of music in this chapter. Rap and hip-hop, though neither being favorites of mine, harbor no aggression from me, but I felt a need to address their presence in the story's universe, considering that, in a way, it conforms to our own: rap and hip-hop music are wonderfully diverse in their expressiveness, but the two subjects which I feel it has yet to address publicly in any positive light is homosexuality and prostitution – two subjects that are very embedded within this fic's foundation. In addition, though I'm not a proponent of prostitution, I respect anybody's decision to earn money in such a way, if by their own will – the subject which I'm criticizing in this fic is human_ (or alien) _sex trafficking, which is pretty much enslaving a person to be a prostitute. I implore anybody who reads this fic to take up an effort against such audacities – join a preventive organization or a petition, and try to keep Niki's sorrows contained in this fic, okay?_

_I give thanks to everybody who reviewed my last chapter, with special thanks to DDRstitch626 for adding himself to my 'review list'.  
__Feel free to stick around for the next chappie – with luck, it'll be up within a week. I'm really looking forward to writing the next one…  
__Until then, see ya later!)_


	17. Walking Into The Shadows

(_A/N: right now, it's approximately ten minutes after midnight – I'm afraid to say that I have now officially fallen two days behind in my attempt to upload one chapter, per week…but I hope that my effort put into this chapter is noticed. Please read on and enjoy...and please forgive if it seems that this chapter progresses too fast, or makes some things too obvious; I was concerned of that..._)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 17

* * *

The rain of the following night had not left any of its essence upon the new morning, which lay in blinking sunlight above the city's skyscrapers. Traffic began to increase its flow once more, and, in Gomora's still-darkened bedroom, Nikita awoke to the sensation of the sun falling over his face. He opened his eyes slightly and immediately fell back to squinting as the awakening rays shone into his face. He realized at once that he had a headache, and a sense of nausea still resided within his stomach. He groaned softly (halfways because of his morning-breath) and covered his eyes with his right arm, feeling around with the other for the covers that he had kicked away during his sleep.  
The water bottle stood empty next to the bed, next to the empty trash can - it, thankfully, had not been used at all, but Niki had awoken (seemingly) without reason from his dreamless sleep during the night once more and drained the bottle of water in a single sitting. Now that he noticed it, he had quite a need to use the bathroom, but figured that he could manage to hold it in until he was a bit more awake.  
Suddenly, light began filling the room at a faster rate than a rising sun should allow. Niki shielded his eyes with a groan and turned his head away from the opening door from which the light was leaking. 

"Good morning!"

The liveliness of Gomora's voice implied that he had already been up and awake for some time. Niki, his eyes still shielded, heard the soft sounds of his host's advancing footsteps as Gomora rounded the bed and hopped up onto the mattress, landing at Niki's feet.

"How're ya feeling, Niki?"

"…Fine…", Niki lied in a groan, not knowing of any other way of how to respond to somebody who had given up their bed for the night.

He peeked through a single, squinting eyelid, and found the red Experiment illuminated by the light, fully-dressed in dark fabric pants and a grey tanktop, his hands on his hips in a playful manner as he looked down at his late-rising guest.  
Niki turned himself on his back and suppressed a yawn, wondering to himself if Gomora knew that he had heard him speaking aloud the night before.  
He hadn't had time to ponder the significance of what Gomora had said. For one thing, he wasn't sure if he had remembered it entirely (he wondered for a moment if it had been a dream – but the trash can and the empty bottle of water stood as a testament against that), but he was fairly sure that Gomora had been referring to him, Nikita, when he confessed of how he made him feel.  
Niki opened his eyes to Gomora, and found the effect of the early morning sun on his crimson fur to be quite agreeable. Even a bit mystical.  
A trickle of a thought in his brain mused that it wouldn't be so bad if Gomora felt that way about him…  
He didn't acknowledge the suggestion, though, and tried to sit up without his head throbbing.

"Ohhh…", he groaned softly, rubbing as his eyes.  
"What time is it?"

"Well, the morning's almost over", Gomora answered, grinning.

Kicking his feet out from underneath himself, he flopped down onto the mattress with a light creaking of the springs, sending a small tremor over Niki as he sat watching him.

"How'd you sleep? – I never even heard you during the night", Gomora asked and remarked, as he raised his head up from the entangled covers, moving Niki to wonder how much more he had been eavesdropped during the night.

"…Alright", Niki answered mildly, and rubbed at his forehead.  
"…My head still hurts, though…"

"That'll be gone in a while, I think – if you take a shower and eat something", Gomora assured him, sitting up on the bed.  
"It might be a good idea if you gave me those clothes of yours to wash; you could wear some of mine…"

He pointed at the floor beneath the bed, where Niki's sweat-soaked vest and slacks still rested from the night before.

"I'll leave my closet open for you, if you want to…"

"Are you going somewhere?", Niki asked, a bit surprised at what seemed to be the situation.

"…Yeah, I gotta go", Gomora replied a bit slowly, after a short pause.

He turned to look at Niki, and the expression in his face, Niki thought, lay somewhere between the apologetic and the anxious: his suddenly-depressed browline was the obvious giveaway, but more was his fall in vocal tone, from its lively playfulness to an anxious state. Niki thought to himself that Gomora was being quite silly if he was getting down about leaving him to go somewhere.

"I got an appointment…my work, y'know", Gomora went on to explain, somewhat timidly.  
"It's a really crap thing – I didn't really want to go in with you here, but, y'know how it is…some things, people just can't have put off, huh?"

Niki nodded as Gomora said this, though wondering who exactly Gomora was referring to by naming "some people".

"So…you're going?", he asked again, feeling a bit more awake by now, and feeling a bit warm underneath the sheets.

Gomora nodded and scratched his brow.

"Yeah…gotta be there in just a while."

"Kinda abrupt, isn't it?"

"No, not actually – I spoke with my boss last night, and he asked me to come in this morning and discuss something."

"Like a briefing?"

"Probably…or he just wants to tell me personally that I'm being fired."

The bigger Experiment attempted a joking smile, which was only returned half-heartedly by Nikita.

"Is your job really in trouble?", he asked, obligatorily.

"No, I don't think so", Gomora replied, shaking his head as the anxious, implausible expression returned to his face.  
"He just…well, we're probably just gonna discuss something that…something about work; I might be busy, soon, on one of these nights…"

Niki eyed the shifting Gomora, and thought to himself (though not for the first time) that Gomora's behavior seemed alien from what he knew of him: he knew Gomora to be either upbeat and proud, or anxious to please his guest…what was with this tone of nervousness that hung about him as the two of them discussed his profession?  
…Niki was surprised to realize that he was actually concerning himself about Gomora, but he decided to cover the emotion with the knowledge that it was only natural to give a bit of thought to the problems of someone who has taken you into their apartment.  
He nodded at Gomora, and made another small attempt at a smile.

"Right…I'll just be here, then."

"I've already made you something to eat!", Gomora pointed out, eager to perk up.  
"…I remembered that you're not really a breakfast-eating person, but I made you something…it's in the living-room, covered in plastic. I think it might be a good idea if you had something to eat…plenty to drink, too, but maybe something to eat, too?"

"…Thank you, Gomora."

"Feel free to take that shower, too…and if you're considering my offer, my clothes are in that closet by the door; there's probably something in there that fits you…"

"Thank you…"

"And you remember how the television and everything works?"

"Yes…thank you."

"I'm not sure, but I think that I might be gone for most of the morning…"

"Okay. I promise that I won't set your place on fire."

"…Was that a joke, Nikita?"

Niki suddenly felt embarrassed, as his crimson host eyed him with a widening smile; why did he have to blush right now?

"…You made a joke!", Gomora observed again after a second, grinning quite broadly.  
"You must be feeling better, huh?"

Niki withdrew himself slightly into the covers, his cheeks still ablush. Gomora went on grinning.

"That's cool – now I feel a bit better going out and leaving you here", he said, sliding off of the bed and onto the floor.  
"You'll be okay, huh?"

Niki hesitated before nodding, still demanding to know of himself why he had tried to say something beyond neutral to Gomora – where was the use in that?

"Cool", his host replied, and hurried out of sight, around the bed.

He reappeared by the door, the morning's sun illuminating him against the opening once more.

"I'll see ya later, then, huh?", he said, before turning around and heading into the living room.  
"See ya in a while!"

A moment later, Niki heard the door open and close, and then, there was silence throughout the apartment.  
He took a few moments to register to the presence of the apartment, in daytime, existing without Gomora's voice filling the rooms. He looked around the empty bedroom, past the door, the closets, and the wall…and found it to be a pretty empty room. It was empty even with him in it, and populated only by Gomora and no one else. Niki smelled the bedsheets, and smelled only the scent of Gomora upon them. It was only Gomora's scent that occupied the apartment: as far as Niki could tell, he was the first to stay in the apartment with Gomora, simultaneously.  
Niki knew that Gomora fancied him. Niki was in no mood progress on this…but he couldn't help but feel sorry for Gomora – it was indeed a sad feeling not to have somebody with whom you could be intimate with…even worse to lose such a person (but Gomora's anxious attitude gave Niki the impression that this was his first time to 'chase' after anybody: he seemed to be a virgin when it came to relationships, and didn't seem to have a history of loss in his untold past).  
He might've wondered how it was possible for Gomora to live, unrestricted, in a part of the city of millions and not be able to find somebody who would be his boyfriend (there certainly had been enough gay guys at the club, the night before)…but he decided that wasn't much of his business, anyway.

Instead, he stretched and slid off of the bed as Gomora had done, holding his still-throbbing head as he reached the ground. Walking from the bedroom, he made a straight line for the bathroom, and, with little hesitation, went to rid his feeling of dried sweatiness by stepping underneath the shower. He borrowed some of Gomora's soap (he thought that it smelled pretty good) and liberally washed himself from head to feet, though not delighting in the near-skeletal appearance he undertook when his fur was wet and fell against his body. He borrowed a clean towel, and, feeling very refreshed from his shower, headed back towards the bedroom (he had refrained from trying to climb atop the sink to brush his teeth). He diligently made the bed and fluffed the pillows (in the lab, it had been a mandatory chore for all Experiments to make their beds, daily, and Niki was far from forgetting how to do so) before laying out his smelly clothes, wondering where and how Gomora was planning on washing them.  
Reluctantly - for he didn't feel comfortable to be clotheless in any situation - he opened Gomora's closet and eventually selected a pair of loose brush pants and a white t-shirt, both of which didn't smell too much like Gomora. Pulling these on, after remarking to himself that they were a bit large for him, Nikita realized that it had been almost two years since he had worn a new set of clothes; for all of his stay at the brothel, Niki had really only been in possession of one set of clothes. Mel had been kind enough to afford him a new vest or a pair of pants from time-to-time, but, by-and-by, Niki had almost always been reliant on his loose slacks and salvaged vest. They had been a part of his life.

He looked back at his clothes that he had laid out, and really contemplated the effect of wearing Gomora's clothes: they were newer; the looked reasonably good; they smelled clean.  
Niki's vest and pants hadn't always been clean, because Niki hadn't always been clean. On top of that, they were old, and they were becoming ragged. Niki's pants had an ugly grey stain on it where an overzealous customer couldn't wait for Niki to remove his pants.  
All of the sudden, Niki didn't like wearing his old clothes anymore. Mel hadn't bought them; he had found them. They held nothing but bad memories. Why keep them? Walking nude wasn't so bad, anyway…  
Considering this, Niki walked into the living room to see what Gomora had made him for breakfast…and to wait for Gomora's return.

* * *

"_With a fork and knife in hand  
__I want to eat, to devour  
__But when eating from the heart of you  
__The blood tastes sour_" 

Gomora tapped wheeled control stick of his cruiser as he moved through the vehicle-infested streets of the reawakened city, catching the bass lines of Hellsteeth's "Eating Love Away" (he had to focus on the bass lines, as there was no real tune to the music) with his tapping.  
Before he had pulled out of the garage, he had stopped for a moment and wondered what he was forgetting – he had managed to take his sword from the wall while Niki was asleep, and it now rested on the seat next to him, and his folder was still in the glove compartment…what was he forgetting?  
He then realized, to his surprise, that even though Niki had only ridden in the car with him three times, he had already gotten used to having his new guest sitting next to him while he drove.  
Gomora contemplated this for a short while, in the dimness of the garage, while other individuals got into their own cars around him and took off. Gomora had never deluded himself about the fact that he had immediately liked Niki ever since he had laid eyes on him…after all, what wasn't there to like about a cute little guy of your own species who had that hint of insecurity about him? Sure, getting to him was being a bit of a challenge, and Gomora felt that he had made a bit of an idiot of himself, and that promising visit to the club had turned out to be less of a success than he had hoped for…but Gomora figured that if Nikita hadn't walked out on him by the time he got back, there was still a chance in the two of them…

Gomora had then quickly pushed those thoughts from his mind in a hurry, after glancing at his cruiser's digital clock – he reminded himself that he would have to remain focused…for he hadn't been lying when he told Niki that he was going to work.

Gomora now advanced on his destination: in an industrial section of the city, occupied by buildings of business and labor, there lay the diamondsteel-producing plant which Gomora had told Niki of earlier.  
The building – gray, unsightly, and adorned with angled, smoking chimneys – was smaller than most in the city, and was comprised of only one large story which was mostly given over to the laboring.  
Lying in the shadows of the towering office buildings which surrounded it, it almost appeared to be an area guarded by watchtowers…but one wondered what such a place could possibly possess to make it worthwhile to protect, in a world of fierce predary.

Then again, with a bit of knowledge, one might choose to retract such an inquiry: diamondsteel was the prized metal throughout the galaxy, after becoming more applicable than titanium and even adamantium in the fields of urban, vehicle, and military construction. Generally considered to be unbreakable, diamondsteel didn't rust, decay, melt, or give way to all but the greatest physical pressure. Diamondsteel had seen to a breakthrough in medical engineering, after being scientifically-proven to be more symbiotic to organic articulation than all other employed metals (including adamantium, whose near-superhuman qualities had been dispelled after it was proven that, after a few years, it began releasing toxic particles of flaked metal into the body). The product was feasibly semi-precious, and a recent demand for the metal had spelled a fortune for the few companies able to produce it.  
Diamondsteel was produced through a refined method that was all but secret throughout the universe – a closely-kept secret, for the fierce competition amongst galactic production companies meant a vengeful doom to anybody who leased secrets to a rivaling manufacturer.

It was to this place that Gomora leveled his cruiser down to, turning off his music as he did so (ending with the lyrics "…_when I'm dead and left unburied, your hands will grab me through the dirt and leave me_ – "). He quarter-circled the area in his descent, eventually setting down in area far from the designated parking lot, and closer to the length of the building.  
Gomora turned off his cruiser's engine, inhaled and exhaled heavily once, before grabbing his folder from the cruiser's glove compartment and his sword from the passenger's seat and stepping out into the shadow of the skyscrapers.  
His feet met the concrete pavement and he closed the door to his cruiser with a push, before exerting from the sheathe of his sword a generally-unseen shoulder strap and slinging the weapon across his back. He headed, determinedly, towards a side-door situated within the length of the building; it was small, and was adorned to its right by a sign reading (in a Turian dialect) "_Emergency Exit Only – NO ENTRY_").  
With the fire-escapes of the presumed second story casting an obscure, gridded shadow over him, Gomora ignored this notice and pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The sight that greeted him was enough to make many individuals shiver: hundreds of horse-faced Perentils occupied the diamondsteel-producing plant, all of them between four and five-feet-tall, and all of them wearing grey working uniforms.  
Some of them wore face-protecting masks that obscured their eyes and muzzles, while they leaned over operating areas, furnaces, boilers, and machinery. Some of them walked about giving orders or supervising, while some stood half-hidden in shadows and smoked cigarettes.  
No matter what they were doing or how important it seemed, however, they all turned in unison to face Gomora when he entered through the emergency exit.  
Gomora, his eyes made alight by flying sparks, stared back at the countless number of faces staring at him. He gave no hint or expression that indicated fear, anxiety, or apprehension to the fact that he stood facing the largest collection of feared species that any outsider, to recent knowledge, had ever encountered. As a matter of fact, if it weren't for the constant lifting and falling of shadows (due to the repetitious sparking), one might've suggested that a tiny smile had invaded the sides of his mouth.  
He took a step forward, and all of the Perentils aware to his presence took notice of it. He took another step forward, and they parted out of his way.

Gomora walked into the fray of laboring Perentils, never pausing in his step or turning an unwilling pace – every single Perentil in front of him hurriedly moved from his path, turning their faces away as he passed them, but reverting their eyes to his sword-clad back once he could no longer detect their eyes on him. Gomora felt these gazes touching him from all sides, but it didn't matter to him. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed it – if he wasn't considering a certain peach-furred someone, intimidation was his middle name.

"There's the freak…", hissed a low voice from above.

Gomora glanced up at the scaffolds, and noticed two idle Perentils standing against the railing, looking down upon him on the ground-floor with the contempt of distrust in their eyes.  
Gomora ignored them, and shook his head with a self-amused smile – words were beyond bothering him, after all (if they weren't coming from you-know-who). He trooped down the aisle, amidst the stares and the mutterings, down to the very end of the long room. Upon a railed podium, standing between the floor and the ground and the scaffolds, there stood a Perentil garbed in clothes unlike the standard outfit amongst the laborer: he wore a slightly-rumpled shirt and pants, above dusty had-been-shined shoes, and he eyed Gomora as he approached his platform.

"I have an appointment with the man", Gomora announced loudly, above the cacophony of the laboring, in a tone that offered no fragrance of humor or hesitation.

The Perentil upon the platform surveyed Gomora, as though wanting to appear as though he had a choice in what he was to do next. Gomora simply looked back at his adverse eyes, the trace of the grin still upon his lips.

"…LeFey's been expecting you", the Perentil said, after a moment, as though he felt a need to put in at least one word.

"That's why I'm here", Gomora replied, without so much as a shrug of the shoulder.  
"Now are ya gonna bring that ladder down, or do I have to jump up in your face?"

The Perentil grimaced – inside of him, a lack of tolerance of being spoken to like that was in conflict with the idea of whether or not that strange creature which his superior favored possessed the ability to come through on his threat; least be said, he did not want this "Gomora" any closer to him than necessary.  
Without another word, the Perentil activated a nearby switch which lowered a ladder attached to the platform to the ground. Gomora ascended to the top of the structure, and, after throwing a smirk at the eye-averting Perentil, approached a door that stood in the wall behind the foreman's platform. Stepping up to it, he breathed deeply once more, he knocked twice, and stepped inside.

* * *

"_Take second best; put me to the test  
__"Things in your chest; you need to confess  
__"I will deliver you; you know I'm a forgiver_"  
-"Personal Jesus", Depeche Mode

* * *

Briefly, the hounding light of the plant intruded into the darkness of an office, whose dimness was quickly replenished as Gomora hurriedly stepped inside, closing the door behind him.  
Gomora's eyes were suited to seeing in the dark, and despite the fact that the only light which now permitted itself into the room was of a crack in a set of blinds over a window, he made out the contents of the room which he had been in many times before: the room was about twelve meters long, six meters in width, and housed a thick, lacquered desk to the left of the door, and a platformed commode to the right. The floor was cheap and inlaid with a carpet, slightly frayed at the perimeters of the walls.  
Silhouetted dimly against the shaded windows, there stood a figure: short-statured, about five-feet-tall, and looking in Gomora's direction. 

"Is that my Gomora?", a low voice drifted from the figure, in a tone that sounded very much like a hum.

Gomora swallowed silently, glad that the speaker couldn't see him.

"Yes…it's me."

The figure moved closer to Gomora, walking slowly and without hurry, until Gomora could completely make out his features.  
A pale-skinned Perentil, wearing a white shirt beneath a dark vest above neatly-cuffed trousers, and with his light-colored mane of hair tied into a bun behind his head, approached Gomora on soft-shoed steps, squinting slightly as he neared the Experiment.

"Come a bit closer", he seemed to ask, reaching out a hand, displaying clear, clipped claws on each finger.  
"You nearly blinded me when you came in – you know I can't stand that kind of light."

"Sorry", Gomora apologized hurriedly, taking an apprehensive step forward, composing himself as he saw the Perentil's dark-colored eyes beginning to focus on him.  
"I shut the door as quickly as I could when I came in…"

The Perentil stopped about two feet in front of Gomora, his eyes adjusting to the Experiment's solid form. Gomora looked back at his host with a straight, unflinching face, knowing that the Perentil knew that he (Gomora) could see him better than he could see the Experiment.  
One of the Perentil's hands was resting behind his back, while his other was still held slightly-raised above his waist. His eyes seemed to scan Gomora entirely, from his head and face down to the hems of his pants. The Experiment gave no objection to the scrutinization, and remained standing still and stoic as he was observed.  
The Perentil raised his elongated face to Gomora's and looked into his eyes, made easy because of their luminousness, even against the darkness; the Perentil's eyes, even and dry-looking, probed Gomora's almond-shaped orbs with a hint of permiscuousness among their sallowness – reminiscent of the eyes of a master admonishing a puppy, or some other type of pet. Gomora didn't dare consider even trying to look away.  
After a moment, the Perentil remarked;  
"You're right on time…I might've set my clock by you."

The hand behind his back revealed itself, and he held it out, along with the other, openly, as a pleasurable smile came over his oddly-shaped face.

"Are you going to come here and give me a hug or not?", he asked, in the same low voice as before – it seemed as though it could afford to be kept low, as none of the din from the plant just outside of the door dared to intrude upon it.

Gomora might've shivered, but he didn't; he didn't even shudder. Instead, he walked forth into the arms of the Perentil, and allowed the creature to secure his arms around his back.

"Ahh, it's nice to see you", the Perentil breathed, as he patted the Experiment's sword-clad back.  
"Welcome back, my dear Gomora."

Gomora, whose heart might've stopped beating as the Perentil touched him, returned the soft embrace, as he looked over the Perentil's shoulder and smelled his scent. He was thoroughly chilled at once.

"…I was only here two days ago", he said, although knowing it held no real significance in the room.  
"…And I spoke to your guys on the phone last night…"

The Perentil released Gomora from his embraced and looked upon him, smiling, his grin seemingly made of the shadows which he stood in.

"You know how much I love having you around", he replied, the fawning gaze still over Gomora's standing form.  
"And what message reiterated by someone else can duplicate that?"

Gomora couldn't think of anything to say in response to this, and he was relieved when the Perentil took the need from him as he led him over to the desk on the left side of the room, towards a single chair facing the desk.

"Who did you say that you spoke to yesterday?", he asked, as he saw Gomora sit down in the chair.

"One of your guys – Menett was his name, I think", Gomora answered, hurriedly adding on the second part to his answer as he strained for preciseness.

The Perentil was moving around to the seat of the desk, his hands back behind his spine.

"And what did Menett have to say?", he asked quietly, as he found his seat.

"He told me that you wanted to see me. Today. This morning. We set up the time and went over my apartment matters afterwards", Gomora answered, speaking in short, quick bursts as he added on the intricacies of his conversation; Menett had been very decent towards him on the phone, and he wanted to keep him from any displeasantries.

The Perentil settled into the cushioned chair behind his desk and leaned back, observing the view before him: there sat Gomora, looking obedient, beyond his desk, which held only a small, articulated lamp, an upright pen-holding device, and a small, scaled model of one of the few Perentilian starships, nicknamed by a small inscription at its base as "_LeFey_" – speculation was all which one could atone for if the name of the spaceship had any relevance to that of Perentil which sat behind it ("LeFey", after all, was merely a formality – nobody was quite sure of what the Perentil's real name was).  
Beyond the desk's surface were a few closed drawers situated at LeFey the Perentil's knees. Most of these were empty, but one of them contained a never-opened box of tissues, some expensive stationary, a watch that had stopped working, and a bottle of alcoholic tonic and two glasses. One other shelf, in easiest reach to LeFey, held a pistol – an automatic weapon which still employed lead bullets in a twelve-round magazine.

Perentils, a bit of street knowledge revealed, were known for their near-exclusion of all laser and plasma-based weapons, in favor of the 'extinct' firearms, such as automatic pistols and Shakrieter shotrifles (one might wonder why an entire inhabitance of a planet would employ the use of such an outdated technology, but Gomora knew, as LeFey had once told him, that as the Perentil big boss, he supplied the arms to his employees, and considered the older weapons to possess a nostalgic and romantic quality which laser weapons excluded; firepower, over all and after all, was of no real concern, as Perentils had no reason to engage in all-out war of any kind, and for whatever business they had to deal with otherwise, their 'leady' weapons proved to be quite adequate).  
Gomora knew that LeFey had that firearm stored in his desk, but he likewise was aware that LeFey knew that he knew. It was this that he thought about as the Perentil surveyed him, sitting silently and unmoving in the chair.

"Take that wonderful sword off of your back and lean back, Gomora – you're always so prepared, but you already look exhausted", LeFey offered, and Gomora did as he was told, setting his blade against the leg of the chair before LeFey went on to question him;  
"Where were you last night?"

Gomora hated these questions, for he didn't dare question that LeFey preemptively already knew the answer.

"At the club", he answered.

LeFey leaned forward onto his desk and nodded.

"Yesterday evening, we held the funeral service for Dregg", he spoke, his eyes still.  
"It took quite a while, but that's the reason why I wasn't receiving your call, personally."

Gomora saw this time to slightly incline his head and avert his eyes – he was grateful for the opportunity.

"Again…I'm sorry for your brother, LeFey..."

"Don't be", the Perentil retorted, raising one of his hands to wave it.  
"Good riddance, if you ask me. At least I appeased mother with that big funeral service, bless her heart – she knew as well as I did that my idiot-of-a-brother wouldn't live to see wrinkles on his ugly face, so she made it clear that she wanted a nice send-off party for her mistake. Maybe she's telling him off, right now, wherever the two of them are."

Gomora raised his head back up, but his eyes still wavered below the level of LeFey's.

"…Still…", he added, for he knew not else what to say.  
"…It must be a shame to lose a part of your family."

"A shame to lose my brother Dregg?", LeFey repeated, with a small guffaw.  
"Oh, don't be silly, Gomora – a shame to see that little playboying sadist fag out of my life is like a shame for taking a breath of fresh air, although I have no idea what that experience is like. Little Dregg, my younger brother, who could only be placated on the money of mine – my money, me, who took the responsibility to revive our family's company as it sank into the concrete, while he spent his time running from club to whore house and back to me for more change. Do you have any idea how much money I'm going to save in his death? I might've kissed him as he lay in the casket, with those holes in him – _Permantium_'s gonna grow in bounds with him not spending cash to sodomize those little vamps that he was so crazy about."

He leaned back into his chair, and sighed heavily, somewhere between happiness and exasperation.

"It seems just fitting that he'd meet his end by one of those poor souls…whoever it was caught him right between his eyes before he could draw blood to get his stick up; you know how dependant he was on hurting somebody to get off…"

He sighed once more, and returned his gaze to Gomora, whilst still leaning in his chair.

"Tell me, my Gomora…", he began to ask.  
"What is it about this sex thing that just makes people go absolutely insane?"

"…Uh…"

"Oh, that's right, I'm sorry – you wouldn't know, would you?"

"…No, LeFey."

"Don't sweat it, Gomora…you're looking at a success that never involved the need or act of sex – you might want to take a leaf out of my book, if you want to stay healthy."

"Right, LeFey…"

"Oh, but don't feel the need to listen to me on that, Gomora – I'm just old-fashioned, I guess. And after all, you should deserve something after you went ahead and found my brother on that rooftop."

"Yes, LeFey."

"And went ahead and found that place for me, where my brother's killer had gotten to…what was it called, again?"

"…'_Species_', LeFey."

"Yes, yes…I handled that place until a little while ago. Knew somebody there. I might've asked you to take care of it, too – I don't think that you would've made as big of a blunder as those three fools which I sent. You wouldn't have gotten yourself killed, would you have, Gomora?"

"…I'd try not to."

LeFey grinned and reached down into one of the shelves of his desk and produced the bottle of tonic and the two glasses. Uncorking the bottle, he began to pour a portion into both of the containers.

"…I've never really felt like that, before", he was commenting, in a soft, thoughtful tone.  
"I mean…I never had any real love for that failed brother of mine in my life, but when I heard that my brother had been killed…it just kind of set me off, you know?"

He replaced the bottle to the shelf and pushed one of the glasses towards the end of the desk, to Gomora.

"I suppose that it has something to do with my feelings about him, I guess", he went on, taking hold of his own glass.  
"I mean, I didn't like or love him, but he was my brother – isn't that to mean something? Eventually, I suppose it came down to a feeling of possession – if I didn't love my brother, I at least owned him. Money was the leash I put him on."

Gomora gripped his glass very carefully and sipped tenderly from the bitter drink (which he hadn't dared to refuse) as LeFey breathed his next statement;  
"…_and you know that I can't stand it when people break my belongings_."

LeFey sat silently for a moment, as though contemplating the meaning of brotherhood and ownership.

"…Maybe I got a bit out-of-hand", he admitted, before taking a swig from his glass and refilling it  
"But that won't happen again – after all, with no good-for-nothing brothers around, what else could there possibly be reason for me to blow up an entire building for?"

Gomora looked up from his drink to the Perentil; he had long since abandoned the experience of being surprised at the fact that LeFey could speak of people which he had killed with such a causal calm. Blowing up an entire building filled with inhabitants, he thought, might gain a grain more of attention from the Perentil…but that didn't seem the case. Gomora figured, silently, that it had something to do with being the head of both a diamondsteel-producing company and the underground crime organization.  
That fact, by itself, had worn off on him long ago…but not so the Perentil's intimidations.

"Uhh…nothing, hopefully?", he answered, carefully.

LeFey grinned. He gave a small nod, and passed his refilled glass from one end to the other, so that he could point an appealing finger at Gomora.

"That's where you come in, my friend", he hissed placidly, and downed his second glass of tonic.

Gomora knew at once of what LeFey was talking about…he wasn't sure who was involved, but it obvious what LeFey wanted of him: this was what all of his assignments were about.  
LeFey brought his emptied glass down onto the table with a bit of a clatter, which resounded throughout the silent room. He leaned back forward, his elbows on the desk, and his fingers entwined as he eyed Gomora intently.

"My company has built itself up to be one of the most successful diamondsteel-producing works that the galaxy knows", he stated, his mouth obscured by shadows and his own fingers.  
"We produce directly for _Galaxy Defense Industries_ and its associates, which has brought us quite of a handsome profit in recent time…you know this, Gomora?"

"I do, LeFey."

"You know that it's through this profit that my company could finally lay off of handling whore houses and drug trafficking?"

"I do, LeFey."

"You know that this profit is what covers your apartment, your cruiser, your club bills, everything you buy, and the security that keeps you from being identified as an illegal creation?"

"…I do, LeFey."

The Perentil even knew about Gomora's origin…and had he pursued the subject further, he would've been able to produce Gomora's Experiment-number and Jumba Jookiba's name…for there was nothing that Gomora could keep from revealing to LeFey the Perentil, who now dropped his hands from his face, and grimaced as he spoke to Gomora.

"Before now, we've been able produce and handle the commerce of our diamondsteel from its creation to its destination", he went on.  
"…But there's been a little wrench thrown into the works of this effective system we had going, here."

He noticed Gomora's now-empty glass sitting on the edge of the desk…and he broke a small smile as he refilled it.

"A week ago, I became aware that _Galaxy Defense_ was looking into an alternative company to handle the commerce of getting our diamondsteel through inspection and to them. Now, everybody on this planet knows that it's best to stay out of the way of the Perentilian businessman…except one certain somebody, who heads a processing company on the other side of the district. Are you familiar with _Huaxuan & Co_., Gomora?"

"…I've heard of them…"

"Are you familiar with its current head and director, Bax Huaxuan?"

"…I think so, LeFey."

"He's an Ixfanonian – young, and very idealistic. He's been appealing to _Galaxy Defense_ to leave the business of handling the diamondsteel to a company that's not been investigated by the federals. He's offering them a lower price tag for his company's services…lower than I would want to go. _Galaxy Defense_ has the power to decide who handles the diamondsteel before them, and when there's only a choice of two, you know who they're sure to choose to be their friend, don't you, Gomora?"

"…They're going to choose the other company?", Gomora answered, hoping he wasn't in err to do so.

LeFey nodded, and he stood up. He moved around his desk and around Gomora's chair, with his hands behind his back and his head inclined downwards.

"I already know that there's a contract being drafted to give Huaxuan exclusive rights to inspecting and transporting my diamondsteel…", he began.  
"…But I also know just how big of an idealist the guy is. Everybody else on his team is literally terrified of him going through with this, with the knowledge of from whom they'd be taking business away from: they're practically shouting at him to reconsider. But Huaxuan is determined to see this through, because he knows what kind of profit is to be made by it. Fortunately, again, he's the only one who fully supports his own efforts…and in that lies the opportunity in which I can employ you."

He looked back at Gomora as he finished this phrase, his eyes shining despite their dryness.  
Gomora nodded. He knew what he was surely to do…but also knew that it was better to check with his boss before assuming so.

"What do you want me to do?", he asked, neutrally.

LeFey stalked up behind Gomora, and placed his hands on both ends of the chair's headrest.

"There's no chance in trying to save Bax Huaxuan – he's gonna be liberal-minded until the end", he spoke, as the claws of his fingers pressed upon the chair.  
"What I want you to do is to send a message to whoever would be next in-line to take charge, and everybody else in that company: let them know, on account of example of what happens to Bax, what happens when someone attempts to interfere with my business."

Gomora nodded, mildly content in knowing the fact that he had guessed right.

"Do you…want it to look like an accident?", he suggested, his mind already probing the opportunities.

"No – no accidents", LeFey answered, shaking his head.  
"I want everybody to know who's responsible for taking care of business."

With an act of surprising agility, the shadowy Perentil whipped around to face Gomora, leaning in to the Experiment's face, as though he might've wanted to kiss him.

"That's what I need you for, my Gomora. You're like a shadow – quick, soundless, and untraceable. You could write my name on the wall in Bax's blood, and nobody would be able to trace anything back to anywhere. You're my assassin, Gomora – better than all the rest who work for me, because you, quite simply, cannot be found…execute as planned, and slide back into the night, back to me…and I'll make sure that you're dutifully compensated for this. You know that I always come through for you."

Gomora could smell the acidic quality of the tonic on the Perentil's breath, but he didn't turn away. He felt LeFey's gaze boring into his own, but he didn't blink. He felt his boss's spirit overpowering his own, but he couldn't do anything but submit.  
He hated it, but he couldn't do anything else…only admit to himself that he was terrified.

"…Yes, LeFey."

LeFey leaned back, away from Gomora. He was smiling, and looking slightly triumphant.

"I have complete confidence in you, Gomora", he told the Experiment, smiling as he headed back to his desk.  
"Just think of what you'll be able to buy with your latest paycheck – a new cruiser, an even bigger apartment…and who knows – maybe your new boyfriend will be able to move in with you, if he wants to."

Gomora's blood ran cold. For a moment, he thought that he felt his heart stop again, and he felt a trickle of icy sweat run down his back.  
He was speechless: having no idea that LeFey's omniscience exceeded beyond what he thought possible, he had been chilled throughout the last few days at the idea that the Perentil would discover Nikita's presence, for the sake of both Niki and himself. He had no idea how LeFey could know – hadn't Gomora taken all of the precautions to stay out of sight of the eyes of Perentil spies? – hadn't he made sure that Niki eluded the Perentil-directed staff from the Adamantium Stay entirely?  
Whatever his mistake had been, he was well aware that the panic that had been brought on him was clearly written on his face – it had to be, for as he sat there, his entire physical, muscular form made useless in his own mind, LeFey the Perentil was grinning daggers at him.

"Two of my dog-faced Bonjian boys from the hotel noticed the little guy noticed him yesterday in the hallway – somebody who looked remarkably like the guy whose room he had just come out of", he said, cruelly casual.  
"I made sure that all eyes were on the pair of you two, then – from the time that you spent showing off on the rooftop to when you brought him home, intoxicated. I even overheard his name – it's 'Niki', or something, isn't it?"

"…_Le-_…LeFey…", Gomora stammered, nearly falling from his chair as he attempted to straighten up.  
"LeFey…it's…it's not what you think, really, I just…I mean…oh, LeFey, he's just so…so…please, don't…"

"Don't what, Gomora?"

The Experiment's sword had been knocked over. Gomora's eyes had turned damp with fear. He looked up and upon LeFey as though he was seeing some kind of inexplicable monster, too horrid for words to describe. He wasn't sure how he was talking – his mouth had gone completely dry.

"…Please don't hurt him, LeFey", Gomora eventually managed to beg.  
"…Just-…just let me know him for a little while…please…?"

The Perentil's eyes were gleaming. He chuckled aloud, and poured another round of the alcoholic drink.

"Now why'd I want to hurt your boyfriend, Gomora?", he asked, his voice, as always, soft…tender, this time.  
"It's not as though I mind you having someone special to mess around with."

"LeFey…he's…he's really – "

"You haven't told him about what you do, have you?"

"_No!_ By all means, no-!"

"That's fortunate – then I have no reason to have any problem with the guy, no?"

He raised the third glass of tonic to his lips and drained it; his tolerance for the drink was impressive.

"I know you've been queer ever since the two of us had our first real chat, Gomora", the Perentil went on, finally setting his glass aside.  
"It's never bothered me – haven't I always treated you as a high priority of mine? Do you think that I'd be angry if I knew you were sharing your apartment with a guy? I know that you go to that queer club at every end of the week…I'll be honest, though – I just never thought that I'd ever hear of you walking out with someone."

Gomora's mind froze: did LeFey know that he hadn't picked up Niki from the club, but rather from the street? Would it matter?  
…It would matter if LeFey didn't know, and Gomora kept it from him.

"He's…he's one my own…kind, LeFey", Gomora told his boss, quietly.  
"…Y'know…an Experiment."

"I figured as much", LeFey replied with a nod.  
"One of the 626…what, by chance, is his number?"

"…621, I think he told me."

"He isn't, by chance, as useful of a specimen as you are, is he?"

"…No, LeFey…I don't think that he knows how to fight at all."

"That's somewhat comforting to know", the Perentil said with a shrug.  
"Although having two expert assassins on my crew would've been something, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, LeFey."

"My goodness, Gomora – calm down, please. I promise you, I will not hurt your peach-furred companion."

Gomora sat in his chair, as still and as silent as he had been, but the feeling of uneasiness remained attached inside of his chest as though it were parasitical.  
If truth be told, Gomora did not trust LeFey at all. He was terrified of him, as he was of the words that came from his mouth. LeFey's embrace brought him no warmth, and his soothing provided him with no serenity. At once, he felt fearful Nikita – he wanted to run out of the office at the very moment, to make sure that nobody had harmed Niki while he was away. Gomora didn't dare underestimate the reach and power and influence that LeFey possessed, and no matter how solemn his promises, they never fed Gomora any semblance of reassurance; quite the contrary – having LeFey promise himself to anything was more terrifying than not.  
But the Perentil had never gone back on anything that he had ever said to Gomora – whatever there was to be said, Gomora had never known LeFey to lie. He tried to placate himself in this…for if he couldn't run, he had to at least try and keep from being panicked.

"Gomora, you're turning pale."

The crimson Experiment blinked.  
LeFey had turned on the lamp on his desk. The light stung Gomora's eyes for a moment. When he could open them again, he beheld LeFey's face in the new, illuminated perspective, bereft of the mask of shadows: he was very pale, and his eyes might've been larger than those of any other Perentil, for they cast odd shadows beneath his eyelids as the light reflected pastilly off of his unblinking eyes.  
He grinned. His teeth were almost yellow, and Gomorra noticed again how very small his smile really was.

"Wake up, Gomora", the Perentil big boss urged, still grinning.  
"Maybe you'd better have some of that sex today – tonight, you pave the way for our success."

Gomora nodded, realizing that there was nothing else to do.  
The Perentil produced a small floppy disk from out of nowhere and handed it to Gomora, who accepted it – dully, dumbly, and without question.

"You better tuck that into your handy little folder", LeFey suggested, leaning back, without acknowledging the fact that Gomora seemed to have turned himself off.  
"It's a complete layout and blueprint of the building where you're headed to. The address is included. Huaxuan has a flat in the building. He'll only be in this part of the planet for tonight – tomorrow, he joins his wife and children on a short vacation, from where he'll be signing the contract. Take care of him tonight, or it's all over. I know that you can do it – you and that sword of yours. I made a good investment when I commissioned that thing for you, huh?"

Gomora nodded, and stashed away the disk.

"One hour before midnight is your chance, Gomora – don't forget it."

"…I never do."

"I know that you don't. Now get up and speak to an individual in the factory called Zixx – I'll call the foreman and let him know that you two are on official business: he'll supply you with some gadgets that you might need tonight. Now go on."

Slowly, Gomora slid off of the chair. Darkness befell the office once more as LeFey deactivated the tabletop lamp and watched Gomora collect his sword. He watched as the Experiment wordlessly approached the door, felt his defeat, and smiled.

"Perhaps, when you two are comfortable enough to do so…", he suggested, ever so slowly, causing the Experiment to halt in his tracks.  
"…you'd like to formally introduce me to your boyfriend?"

Gomora said nothing for a moment. The silence residing in the room was venomous.

"…Sure, LeFey", eventually heard Gomora answer quietly.  
"We'll…do that some time…if we stay together…"

"Ah, Gomora…", the Perentil breathed, leaning back as the Experiment vanished out of his limited range of vision.  
"I'd assume that having someone who you can depend on until the end of time is a great and valuable thing…wouldn't you agree?"

The grimace on Gomora spoke of an unbearable pain inside of him – like the bite of a spider, who had paralyzed its prey with bitter venom. He reached out and touched the door's handle, holding his sword tightly in the other.

"…Yes, LeFey…I do."

"I knew you would. Take a few days off after tonight and, if you'll forgive my language, fuck around a bit with your boyfriend."

Gomora nodded, then opened the door, and stepped out of the office and into a humid, smoking rapture.

* * *

(_A/N: this chapter, first and foremost, though long, is generally less-detailed than most other chapters which I have written for _Elisir_ – I wrote it so because it's not coming from Niki's POV; Niki, I think, has been designated as the overall 'centered' character, and his feelings, emotions, and opinions will generally be a greater necessity to the storyline than those of Gomora and other characters, who, even when they are center of attention, will remain narrated in a more visual format. I hope this doesn't strike anybody as a case of laziness as hard as it strikes me.  
__This chapter, I feel, reveals a lot about Gomora's place in the storyline, and the potential that rests in his relationship with Niki; the chapter was meant to showthat Gomora was indeed afraid of something physical...you'll find out sooner just why he is.  
However, for those of you who feel that this chapter might've revealed too much, too soon, please remain secure in the fact that there's a lot more to be told in the story…we are officially entering a further 'part' or section of _Elisir.  
_Many, many thanks and platonic hugs _(oh, what the heck – let me give y'all a platonic smooch while I'm at it!) _to the four individuals who have reviewed the last chapter of _Elisir_ – you're the ones who are keeping me going! See y'all soon!_) 


	18. I'm Only Lonely

(_A/N: the 18th chapter of Elisir is here! – and the readers will cheer!...  
__Well, maybe not – this certainly isn't the most exciting chapter of the fic. Please keep in mind that this is a slow fic, and that much of the story's prevalent, developing themes depend upon _example_…keep that in mind as you read, and please enjoy_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 18

* * *

He might've waited longer, but before he could, the morning had passed, and Niki had managed to entirely peck away the serving of toast, orange meal, and fresh fruit that Gomora had left for him, and this intake of food, so rare for him the morning, had supplied him with a sudden cache of energy that he felt the need to exert.  
He had no intention to run around the apartment or anywhere else like a sugar-highed fool, but he felt that a solitary stroll was in order at the time; during his last year's stay at the pouf, he and Mel had occasionally gone for walks themselves through the district's red light section (security, it had been clear, had been lax ever since the two 'guards' had disappeared, and the inhabitants, though still living too fearfully of mob security to attempt a getaway, dared themselves to occasionally venture out into the streets to escape the claustrophobic grip that the pouf held). 

It was alone, however, that Niki would embark on this stroll, he realized, after he had been momentarily relieved to find that his urn had remained unmoved overnight, standing next to one of the legs of the living room's table. Niki secured it before he headed towards the door, garbed in Gomora's clothes and without money in his pocket.  
He realized, almost in front of the door, that he didn't have a card key to let himself back into Gomora's apartment.  
He considered, for about a second, that he might leave the door slightly ajar as to keep from being locked out, before realizing that not only was such an action not entirely safe towards the apartment, but also that Gomora probably wouldn't approve of it…this was, after all, his apartment.

Eventually, Niki shrugged to himself and scaled up the door the short distance to the doorknob, opened the door, dropped to the floor, and headed outside, closing the door behind him.  
For whatever reason, he wasn't worried: he had had something to eat and was not hungry at all, felt clean and well-groomed, and hadn't doubted Gomora when he said that he'd be back, eventually. The looseness of this return-schedule didn't bother Niki – he realized that he'd be able to take as long of a walk as he desired, and not have to account for not being in Gomora's apartment when his host returned. If he felt shrewd at all in accepting this logic, he didn't seem to mind, as he headed towards the elevator, temporarily forgetting that he disliked their use.  
After clearing the carpeted hall, he managed to prod the elevator's calling-button with a small jump. Suspecting a long wait until the elevator would arrive (the building was, after all, very high), Niki took a lean against the doorway, only to be surprised by the chime which preceded the elevator's arrival, and he stepped back as the sliding door opened to reveal a solitary figure standing inside of the tall cell.

"Hello", greeted the Makwonian.  
"Lobby-bound?"

"Yes", Niki replied – for once, it seemed, he wasn't nervous to speak with a stranger.  
"May I ride with you?"

"Of course", the fellow rider answered, stepping aside.  
"Feel free."

Niki stepped inside of the cell, and felt secure in knowing that at least he wouldn't have to ride the elevator by himself.  
The Makwonian, like all of his species, was short-statured, yellow-skinned, and possessed the peculiar features of a large, domed forehead which spread above his eyeline, and a pursed mouth which gave the constant impression that they were sucking on a sour citric juice. A common derogatory on the street stated that Makwonians were simply too ugly to be anything but polite, but Niki was nonetheless pleased to ride with someone who appeared to be friendly – after all, it was certainly better than trekking the downwards journey alone.

"Insane weather we've been having, huh?", the Makwonian commented, as the slight jerk marking the elevator's descent set them into motion.  
"Having it rain once is surprising enough, but twice in two days? That's something, huh?"

"I don't know; I didn't experience too much of it", Niki lied in reply.  
"Is it really that much to get excited about?"

"I guess not", said the Makwonian.  
"Just odd, I guess. Have you heard of the counteracting effect that the climate control is having on the planet's atmosphere?"

"No – are we going to die?"

The Makwonian chuckled. Niki noticed him holding a briefcase in one of his three hands.

"Only concerned for the basics, huh?", he asked, as the elevator's display counted down the floors of their descent.  
"You don't need to worry, I think – we'll both be long-gone before any will happen."

"Oh, I don't know…"

"Are you new in this building? I haven't seen you before, I believe."

"I am new…although I'm not sure how long I'll be staying."

"I see. Where are you off to right now? – work?"

"No, I quit work a few days ago."

"Oh. Shame."

"Not really – I can't say that it's been an enjoyable time, but I'm glad that I've got some time off. I've been working full-time for two years. No breaks."

"Sheesh. My company gives six weeks of paid vacation."

"I should come and work for your company, huh?"

"Perhaps – if you're interested. Oh, here we are."

The elevator halted, and slowly opened into the huge, decorated lobby: a gold-toned room it was, about half the size of a playing field, with a ceiling held at least forty meters above the floor by supporting walls ordained with large, ovaled windows stretching all the way to the ceiling, containing a red-carpeted floorspace occupied by luxurious couches, sofas, and armchairs.  
Niki felt the need to blink, for he really had not been expecting any kind of color to be so bright.  
The concierge's desk stood centered between six elevators, three on both of its sides. A reptilian individual in a red uniform, flanked by several other diverse, uniformed faces, as he greeted guests of all well-dressed species with "Hello, hello", "Good morning", and "Looking good, Mr. Jahkol".

"Huge place, isn't it?", the Makwonian remarked, grinning, as he noticed Niki's surprise.  
"Obviously, it takes some time just to walk across to the door – you have to keep that in your schedule, if you're headed anywhere."

The two of them stepped out of the elevator and onto the soft, inlaid, expensive carpet of the lobby, making room for a towering Erephan to occupy the lift for himself.  
All the while, Niki couldn't help but wonder what he had been thinking before: Gomora's apartment was very nice, indeed, and the hallway had been very neat and appealing…but he had had no idea that Gomora was living in a place that was obviously so expensive – this was practically the ritz, it seemed, after all.  
Further speculation moved him to guess, by the obvious classiness of dress among the individuals occupying the lounge, that whomever resorted here for any amount of time would be in need of a wealthy amount of money to do so…and Niki began wondering exactly what kind of line of work Gomora must be in to be able to afford living so high in the social order.  
He and the Makwonian, being similar in stature, navigated their way around the legs of other creatures, doing their best to make straight for the main exit, whose doors were about ten meters high, to comply with any distinct character who would try to enter this prestigious place.

"Oh, good morning. Mr. Lukaib!", the concierge called out, as he noticed the Makwonian finding his way with Niki across the lobby.  
"Starting work late today?"

"I'm afraid so", Niki's guide called back, over the sounds of a full lobby.  
"Thank you for the wake-up call."

"It was our pleasure", the uniformed reptile simpered, before turning his attention back to other guests.

Niki glanced up at the Makwonian and grinned.

"Well-known, are you?", he asked.

"Oh, it's just a formality - letting me know they love me almost as much as my money", Lukaib the Makwonian replied, shaking his bald head.  
"But I suppose you knew that already, huh?"

Niki laughed as Lukaib led on, feeling more at ease than he had yet before within the last few days.  
About three minutes and several turns later, the pair of them had found their way to the double-doored entrance. They slipped out and over the threshold behind a towering Shorca, and into the shadow of the building backed by the sunlight. Once the giant had turned down the street, Niki beheld the ever-busy traffic lanes flowing on and above the mined lanes. Nice vehicles they were, too, Niki noted, that cruised past him and Lukaib – long, expensive cruisers. The individuals that traversed on both ends of the pedestrian-way, he likewise noticed, were also of a seemingly more-expensive build: well-dressed, refined, and holding briefcases; the only people who ever tromped around the red-light district had been drug-dealers and prostitutes, and the most expensive building had been a cat house that offered Vananeelas. The contrast between this street and the one which Niki had resided on was startling.  
Lukaib had stepped onto the curve of the sidewalk and began hailing a taxi, which was soon to be had for him, as it passed by another hopeful a bit earlier up the street.

"Hey, maybe we'll see eachother later", he commented, as he stepped into the cab's backseat.  
"Granted that you'll stay here?"

Niki nodded and shrugged.

"I don't know if I will", he confessed.  
"…But there's a pretty good chance I will. The food's okay."

"Great", commented Lukaib, pulling closed the door and rolling down the window.  
"I'll keep my eyes open on your floor then, huh?"

"Okay", Niki agreed, and smiled.  
"I hope you have a good day at work."

"See you later!", Lukaib called, before the cab sped away, turned a corner around the building, and was lost in the frey of cruisers.

Niki sighed, for a feeling of contentment – it had been very nice to speak with someone without any feelings of barrier. He hoped that he had found a friend.  
He turned around, eyed the open street ahead of him, and strode forward, anxious to explore this part of the city a bit.  
In the taxi cab that held Lukaib the Makwonian, the driver adjusted his cockpit's mirror, and he peered into the passenger where Lukaib sat.

"What'd ya find out?", he asked, in a tremoring voice.

Lukaib straightened his collar and held his briefcase tight.

"He says he doesn't know how long he'll be staying…but he figures that there's a chance he'll stick around."

"Did you ask him about the other freak?"

"How could I have? – we hadn't gotten to talking to that."

"Pity. At least you'll have something to say. You'd better pray that the boss LeFey has some interest in that bit of information, or you'll find yourself back in the whore house before you can drop that briefcase."

* * *

A few sideways glances towards him and his not-so-expensive clothes led Niki to believe that the streets of the upper business crust were not the ideal place for him to conduct a peaceful stroll, so he glanced up at a lamp pole, remembered the name of the street upon which the Adamantium Stay was located upon, and headed in the direction in which the skyscrapers became smaller. 

The walk to the next district was almost a distance of seven blocks, but Niki couldn't have minded less; as he looked up at the buildings and their accompanying signs or features, it was absolutely refreshing to see them not adorned with neon lights advertising drugs, sex, or money. Likewise, in descent from high to middle-class, the clothes of individuals began to change: although the number of different species which walked the sidewalks and drove by on the streets remained as diverse as ever, the presence of suits and shined shoes was replaced by the shirts, vests, and slacks that Niki was used to seeing. People on this street, it seemed, were walking less intently, and seemed to have other things on their minds than going to work.  
The buildings on these streets, for the most part, were too small to be adequate places of business or countance – these places mainly appeared to be homes.  
Niki heard voices, unrestrained by dignation, in languages other than Turian, and in dialects which he had never heard. He passed a café, and, through the glass window, beheld people who seemed neither holic nor dangerous – just in the mood for something to eat. Niki was glad that he wasn't hungry, for his first experience of seeing food being enjoyed (rather than just consumed because it was needed) was quite invigorating and impressioning.

Niki did something which he had never done before in his life: he asked a complete stranger for directions. It was a Luik, standing in a line for frosted ice from a vender; Niki really wasn't lost or even needed to know the way to the district center, but he asked the Luik anyway, who kindly answered him that it was fourteen blocks off of the upcoming street, and advised the Experiment to take the city bus, which was due to arrive just around the corner in a few minutes.  
Niki thanked the Luik and kept on walking, feeling the stranger's eyes following him as he went; Niki possessed the gift of being able to sense when somebody was looking at him, out of his sight, but it didn't bother him this time – the stare was of eyes that were curious about him, and not endangering. For fun, he turned around momentarily, waved, called out a second thank-you, and turned back around to turn an upcoming corner.

He was really enjoying the sensation of walking around the city, unrestrained and unhampered by worry or a schedule – nobody had ordered him to be back at a certain time or else, and there were no walls to block him from traveling in the direction of his heart's content, or to stop him from pausing to admire an object or person which he found interesting. Even the distances which he walked, grand by any standards, seemed not even to fall upon his unshoed feet, as he didn't even stop to sit down until he reached a concrete park situated within the center of a neighborhood. Sitting upon a bench, he overheard the conversations of many people, speaking about subjects which Niki had never even considered himself: school, shopping, rent, children, and more.  
Niki reflected on the fact that he had never had a chance to consider such things in his lifetime, and for a moment (before remembering what it would entail going back to), he worried that he wasn't prepared to face a world in which no restrictions had been set for him.

He didn't concern himself too much, though; a Pondorian had apparently forgotten a credit on the bench next to Niki, and had disappeared quite swiftly from sight. Niki picked up the credit and eyed it, and wondered to himself, quite scruitinizingly, if he'd be stealing if he were to take it (he was starting to feel the need for a small snack, and figured that this quarter-credit would be enough to buy something).  
To be sure, he continued to sit upon the bench for several minutes, listening to the stories of people who passed him by, whilst waiting for the return of the Pondorian, who never returned.  
Niki had noticed a kiosk at the park's perimeter, earlier, and he now headed in its direction. He had to hold onto the edge of the counter to stay in-sight of the vender and handed him the quarter-credit for a vanilla-flavored ice stick, packaged in plastic. He held it in his hands as he walked away from the kiosk, searching for an empty bench to sit on.

It was then, out of the corner of his eye, that he noticed someone who caught his attention.  
It was a Vennian – a female. Vennians, in general, were typically short and plain-faced and plain-featured, much like Luiks, sans the yellowish skin - Vennians were of a light, purplish tone.  
It was all-too-easy for Niki to guess that she was a prostitute – he could tell by her cheap-looking step-shoes, ruffled shortkirt, make-up, and large hair – there was only one reason to be dressed-up so indiscreetly in the middle of the mid-morning; her entire presence spoke of her profession in volumes which Niki was sure was evident to people other than him.

She had come out of a building close to the park, across which she now walked briskly, holding her handbag – it was the walk that spoke of a job fulfilled. Niki watched her as she walked past him, barely five feet away as she passed before him – the smell of thick perfume was heavy about her.  
She walked out of the park without looking any other way than straight ahead, her shoes _click-clack_ing on the stone upon which she walked. People turned and muttered as she passed them by, throwing glances at her over their shoulders and muttering thins under their breath – disdainful, slanting, and degrading things.

"There goes that tramping little thing…"

"Can't she find anything better to do with herself than lay on her back?"

"What's she got business here, anyway?"

"I hear she's been laying the paralyzed folks at the hospital."

"Probably bringing the STDs into our neighborhood…"

The Experiment, standing unnoticed, hung his head with sad eyes; he didn't feel like having a snack anymore.  
Shuffling over to a nearby bench, he loosely held his icepop and sat down, his lofty mood suddenly flushed.  
He didn't know why it bothered him…after all, he had never before seen the girl before in his life, and had no idea what was the story of her life…but he saw her, doing what she was doing, and heard the voices of those who ridiculed her.  
Niki had always been filled with shame while he worked as a prostitute, but he had always done his best not to make it evident, and he had never thought about what people, 'decent' or not, might think of him if they ever saw him where he was.  
For a moment, he saw himself walking across the park there, looking like he did because he had no other way to look like, and doing what he did because he had no other choice than to do so. Did these people in the park and throughout the neighborhood, so seemingly kind, harbor the same feelings for him?...would they, if they had seen him, unknowing as they were?

It was a scenario of the past coming back to him as he sat there, moving him to ask himself;  
"_Am I really alone?_"

The rest of Niki's trip was a bit less joyous than its predecessing half had been: his step had lost its spring, and he didn't bother to look up anymore. All of the sudden, his journey back to the hotel seemed so very long – why had he gone so far to begin with?  
He asked for directions a few times with less gusto, and seemed to receive the same lack of enthusiasm in return. His feet began hurting, and he walked much slower than he had before.  
The sky overhead had turned cloudy and white. The air began to get cold, and loose skin and scales around him began disappearing. People around him on the sidewalk began heading indoors, and the street became less and less crowded, until the loudest noises were those of the cruisers driving by.  
Niki, now nearly alone on the street, unprotected from the erratic weather, slowly continued on his way back to Gomora's apartment.

* * *

Niki arrived back at the Adamantium Stay sometime in the afternoon, on the likewise-deserted street of the upper crust. His hands were chilly as he waited in front of the doors for somebody to open them, and he shivered adequately, hoping that he hadn't succeeded in catching a cold.  
Eventually, there came a large-specied individual, while Niki was blowing into his hands, who pushed open the door and entered without even acknowledging the Experiment, but allowed Niki the chance to sneak inside behind him.  
The lobby was eerily empty, compared to its state in the morning: a few employees shuffled around and busied themselves with carts and furniture, moving around the few individuals who still sat in the sofas, reading what appeared to be newspapers.  
Niki shivered in the warmth. He hoped that Gomora had returned from his work by now, for he really didn't feel like waiting around in the hallway for his return. Walking briskly to warm himself, Niki headed in the direction of the elevator, unaware that the near-empty room made his detection quite easy. 

"Oh! You there! Right there! You!"

Niki turned, surprised, towards the concierge's desk, where the uniformed reptile was apparently attempting to hail him.

"You, there! Are you a mister 'Nikita'?", he asked aloud, his echoing voice calling the attention of everybody else in the massive room.

"…Yes", Niki answered, trying hard to keep his voice from reaching the levels of the reptile, immediately uncomfortable that this exchange was being carried about loudly amongst people whom he didn't even know.

"Mr. Gomora from the upper story was asking about you", the concierge went on, allowing the entire room to hear the situation.  
"He was very upset that you had left – he wished for me to tell you, upon your arrival, to wait for him."

Disliking the reptile immensely, Nikita wished that the distance between himself and the desk were lesser – then he'd be able to walk up to the concierge and, after thanking him for informing the entire lounge about his going-ons, would be able to ask him what he meant by what he had said.

"…You mean, he's not here?", Niki called back, as softly as possible.

"He seemed quite upset when he found that you had left the room", the concierge informed across the floor.  
"Very upset – he went to go searching the streets for you in his car, and asked to tell you to wait for him here, should you return."

"…Okay", Niki replied, realizing now that leaving without a sign probably had not been the most placateable thing to do towards Gomora.  
"…May I wait in his room for him?"

"Do you have a key?"

"…No."

"I'm afraid I cannot supply you with one, either. Feel free to have a seat in here – Mr. Gomora said that he would return within an hour to investigate your possible return here.

"_Great_", Niki groaned to himself, turning away from the elevator and heading towards the nearest couch.  
"_Is the entire room going to hear that, too?_"

Indeed, just about every set of eyes in the lobby were now fixed upon him, as he sought a solitary armchair and sat down in it, comically dwarfed by his small presence in the Shorca-sized seat.  
Only now did he truly consider Gomora, who, it seemed (as Niki knew him), would naturally be inclined to be concerned if he re-entered his apartment to find his guest gone. Niki had loosely convinced himself that leaving his urn behind would be proof enough that he was planning on returning soon…but he groaned at himself when he figured that it would've been much safer and just as easy to explain his temporary departure to Gomora in a note that he could've written. He should've known better…Gomora was sure to get upset, even if Niki didn't understand his unfounded fretfulness.

He contemplated this for a while before becoming bored, from when on, henceforth, he began watching the clock. Five minutes had gone by, followed by another two, two, three, four, two…  
Niki felt quite tired – a concoction of boredom and exhaustion closed in on his eyes, and he began to drift away from the monitoring of the clock. Whenever he heard the _ding_ of the elevator, he'd sit up and turn around to see if it was Gomora arriving (after having parked his car in the high-altitude garage, obviously), but, again and again, it turned out to be someone he didn't know.

Finally, nearly half an hour after Niki had taken a seat in the lounge, the elevator chimed again. Not hurriedly at all, Niki sat up to turn around and to look over the side of the chair – he hadn't even done so before fast footsteps and a loud, anxious voice foretold of who it was.

"Giordan, has he been – "

Gomora was halfway between the elevator and the concierge's desk when he saw Niki's head peek out from around the corner of the large chair. Niki saw him as Gomora caught sight of him, and Gomora's appearance was shocking: above his tense and anxiety-ridden face, his pierced ears were held sharp and high (the classic 'alert' position among Experiment ears), and his body seemed absolutely coiled, with each step a seemingly erratic expulsion of some of the energy that was obviously expanding inside of him.

"…_Niki-!_"

The exclamation rang throughout the huge, sparsely-crowded room as a choking cry, as emotions ranging from relief to complete outrage shocked Gomora's face.  
Niki wasn't sure what or how to respond to this, and any decision to do so was taken from him: by the time that he had climbed off of the chair and onto the floor, Gomora was already upon him, having gripped him by his upper arms, and now was shaking him viciously.

"Where the Hell did you go!", the crimson Experiment cried out aloud, his pink-rimmed eyes moist and his teeth bared.  
"Why did you just leave just like that!"

"Gomora!", Niki cried back in return, his head shaking back and forth from Gomora's assault as he tried to free himself.  
"I didn't – "

"You can't just leave like that!", the larger Experiment interrupted, restraining Niki as the Experiment tried to pull away.  
"You can't just leave like that!"

"Gomora, let go!", Niki shouted, feeling his arms beginning to bruise under Gomora's hands.  
"Stop it!"

"You don't just leave like that, you hear me! _You don't!_"

"Let go of me!"

"You don't! You hear – "

"_Leave me alone, Gomora!_ – _STOP!_", Niki shouted, and he managed to free his arms to shove Gomora, with as much force as he could, in his chest.

Gomora was taken out-of-stride at Nikita's shove, and nearly lost his footing as he was sent a few paces backwards, surprised at the smaller Experiment's strength. The wind hadn't been knocked out of him, but he was left speechless – either because of his shock at Niki's reaction, or because he had just realized what he had been doing (or both reasons, perhaps).  
Niki stood as still as Gomora, as the two of them faced eachother, while the entire lobby was left silent around them, leaving their breathing as the only audible sound.  
Niki reached a hand up to rub his shoulder, where Gomora's forceful grip had already left a bruise. His expression had turned into a dark scowl.

"_Don't you ever touch me again_", he hissed, the message only audible between him and Gomora.

Gomora, his eyes having turned wide with shock and realization, stammered as he attempted to take a step forward;  
"Niki…I didn't mean to – "

"_DON'T YOU EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!_"

Niki's shout sent tremors through the long curtains that hung to the sides of the windows, and moved Gomora to retract the step that he had taken, while he himself stood entirely taken aback from the transformation of Nikita's face to a mask of absolute rage.

"DON'T YOU _EVER_ TOUCH ME AGAIN!", he repeated, his voice shrill, high, but unwavering.  
"DON'T YOU EVER TELL ME WHAT I CAN AND CAN'T DO! I DON'T BELONG TO YOU! DON'T YOU EVER PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME AGAIN!"

His voice passed over and through the lobby like the tremor of an earthquake; everybody stood transfixed, their eyes on the peach-furred Experiment as he literally shook with either rage or emotion. His eyes, it even seemed, had gone darker than they had been before he had been grabbed by Gomora, and the fur at the back of his neck and up his spine stood up – he looked positively dangerous.

An Uavilin arrived in the lobby by way of the elevator. Needless to say, he found the entire scene a bit surprising: complete silence, everybody's attention focused on two short, furry guys (or was that one a female?) standing in the middle of the room, and an odd ringing resounding throughout the place.

"Uh…what's going on?", he asked, after a moment of further silence.

Niki turned away from Gomora, blinking away tears from his eyes. He ran for the elevator, pushing past the Uavilin, and, of his own will, ascended upwards, one hand pressed over his eyes as he found the button to carry him upwards.  
Gomora stared after him, even after the elevator door had closed and the lighted bar indicated that the elevator was rising through the shafts. He didn't notice that his mouth was open, that his eyes were unblinking and moist, and that he was slightly trembling until one of the individuals in another armchair coughed and returned to his newspaper.  
Gomora looked around himself, at everybody who was staring at him, and then back at the elevator. He lowered his head and sighed.

"What the fuck are you all staring at?"

The concierge, his employees, and the guests in the sofas and couches quickly inclined their heads and pretended to look busy and uninterested. Gomora looked both agitated and sadly surmounted for a while, before heading over towards the elevator, and following Nikita up to the higher stories.

* * *

(_A/N: not much can be said about this chapter – I just moved to throw a curveball at Niki and Gomy's potential relationship; I don't plan on making this easy. Those who read the previous chapter will realize the latent of Gomora's interaction with Niki at the end of the chapter, and why he'd be so anxious about Niki leaving the apartment without him.  
__This chapter, overall, I felt, included less detail than a 'Niki-chapter' should…please let me know, reviewers, if it was adequate.  
__Many thanks to AquaBreaker for supplying himself_ (I hope) _to my list of reviewers – feedback, as always, is always necessary and very much appreciated by me.  
__I'm one day behind in submitting this chapter, on-schedule – the next one, I hope, will be up a day sooner. Until then, adios, mi amigos!_) 


	19. The Wall Between Us

(_A/N: hey-hullo there, readers and_ (hopefully) _reviewers! Welcome to chapter 19 of_ Elisir. _Please read on, without any further ado_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 19

* * *

"Niki?...Niki…?...Niki…can I talk to you?...Niki?...can you hear me?...Niki, please talk to me…I'm sorry for what I did earlier…I shouldn't have…Niki, I'm so sorry…please let me talk to you…?..."  
Whatever aggression he had possessed before appeared to have degenerated into a remorseful desperation – so it seemed as Gomora stood facing the closed door to his bathroom, literally begging with someone out-of-sight inside of it.  
If circumstances had been different, Gomora figured that he would've felt very silly to stand afront a room in his own apartment, pleading to be let in…but, considering the conditions at-hand, the emotions of concern which he was harboring overrode all else, as he stood by the door, trying despondently to get through to the Experiment on the other side. 

"Niki…?...I'm so sorry, Niki…Niki?...did I hurt you?...please, just talk to me, Niki…"

Inside of the bathroom, water trickled down from a cold, moist sponge that Niki had pressed against his bruised shoulder and ran into the sink, on the edge of which the small Experiment sat; even though he sat at least five feet above the ground, with his feet dangling before him, he was too deep within himself to really care about the height.  
Again and again, in his mind, he felt Gomora shaking him, and yelling at him…(his shoulder throbbed)…and hurting him.  
At the time, it had seemed as though the entire lobby had dimmed: the light seemed to have vanished, until there had only been this Gomora which Niki didn't know at all, with rage in his voice and in his eyes; he had been frightening, dominating, and piercing – Niki had been shouted at a lot throughout his lifetime, but, for some reason, Gomora's vocality seemed to shoot throughout his body, up and down, leaving him feeling like ice. He had felt like ice, down in the lobby, as the warmth of his body had seemed to disintegrate along with the lights. It had been terrifying – terrifying to be manhandled by someone like that, and even more terrifying, Niki thought, to feel the fear all the way down to your heart…a place where only the most penetrating of emotions should be allowed to enter.

Niki was terrified of the thought: had he really allowed Gomora to come so close to him as to see himself fit to do and say those things to him?...and had he really felt that certain, intimate way about him, as to feel the hurt of Gomora's actions inside of himself? – such would be the only explanation as to how Niki, who had endured years of pain and degradation and had managed to find a way to detach himself from all such emotion, would be forced to feel the way he did at the moment.

In some ways, he felt it to be a weak comparison, but he remembered the precious few times that Mel had been able to touch him that way – so grippingly, yet so terribly.  
Mel had never lain a hostile hand on Niki, and he had never been unkind to him, either…but, in perhaps the truest form of symbiosis, it was upon the occasions in which Mel wasn't feeling too well, or in which his spirits were dampened, that Niki had felt most vulnerable and exposed – not just because his only line of protection from the terrors of the underworld was taken aback…but because his dependency and only light in the dark universe was taken aback: Niki ached because Mel felt bad, because he obviously didn't know how to feel any other way.  
After all, when there was only one person in the universe whom he cared about, it wasn't surprising to imagine the entirety of Niki's emotion being delivered unto him.  
…But Gomora?

"…Niki?..."

The washcloth had turned mild, but Niki didn't rewet it. He heard Gomora, muffled through the door, but didn't respond.  
He wasn't sure if he wanted to accept Gomora's apology, and that was the depth of his pondering.  
Gomora wanted him to forgive being hurt, shouted at, and humiliated for his own abnormal worries. Niki sat there, with two messages repeating over and over again in his brain: "_He hurt me_…" and "…_because he was worried about me_". Solitarily, these two stood in opposition like fire and water, but when considered together, the thought made Niki's mind twinge – with what reason would Gomora seek to justify the moments of hurting him, and what reason would drive him to do so in the first place?

Gomora was and had been worried – Niki had concluded and isolated this fact. Gomora wasn't jealous of anything or possessive of Niki – the Experiment had resolved that for himself, too.  
Being put in the position he had experienced whilst in the lobby had moved Niki to respond the way he did – if Gomora had simply come up to him and told him that he had been worried about him, Niki figured that he wouldn't have felt anger towards Gomora (as a matter of fact, the reinforcing of the notion that he was actually cared for would've probably made Niki feel better, he figured – but such a display which Gomora had set up instead had taken all of the positive energy out of the potential)…  
…Niki wondered, for a moment, whether or not he had gone off-topic at all from his current feelings, but his throbbing shoulder brought him back to issues of physicality.

"Niki?...are you okay?..."

The small Experiment sighed, and discarded the slightly-moist cloth into the sink before dropping softly to the floor. He rubbed his forehead and groaned in silent exasperation, giving himself full credit to feel sorry for himself.  
He walked over to the door, and pulled it open to find Gomora standing there, on the opposite side of the threshold, with his hand raised in mid-knock.  
They stared at eachother for a moment.

"…Niki?", Gomora asked, lowering his hand.  
"Are you-?..."

"My shoulder hurts", Nikita replied, plainly.  
"Do you, by chance, have anything for it?"

"Uh…yeah, I do – here…", the red Experiment answered, lowering his eyes as he stepped inside of the bathroom.

He rummaged through the cabinet beneath the sink and unearthed a tube of some ointment. He turned to Niki, holding it up.

"I could apply it for you…", he offered quietly.

"No, thanks – I can do it by myself", Niki replied, and took the tube from Gomora.

Applying the ointment was uncomfortable, to say the least; it certainly didn't make Niki feel any better as he rubbed it onto his purplish bruise, sending the painful, throbbing pulses down his arm. He flinched.

"Niki, can I – "

"_No_, Gomora…I'm fine."

He said so forcefully, and Gomora recoiled perceptibly.  
A few moments later, Niki handed the tube back to his host, who re-screwed the cap onto it, keeping his eyes upon the object and not Niki.

"Thank you", Niki spoke to Gomora's back as the larger Experiment replaced the tube back beneath the sink.

"…Don't mention it…", came the quiet reply.

Gomora righted himself back up, his head remaining lowered and directed at his six-packed belly. He and Niki stood across from eachother, unmoving for no apparent reason, other than that both of them were expecting (or hoping for) the other to say something.  
Perhaps Niki speculated the situation as such, too, for he crossed his arms and eyed Gomora with an expression far from sympathy. The larger Experiment (though he appeared surprisingly smaller in this encounter) peered up eagerly at this movement, but any hope for whatever he was expecting quickly fell from his face and he averted his eyes.

"…I'm sorry for what I did", he told Niki softly, though staring back at his stomach.  
"I won't do it again…"

He dared another glance up at Niki, and found him still surveying him with unblinking eyes. Gomora quickly looked away again.

"That was really stupid of me to do", he added, hoping it would be sufficient.  
"Really stupid…idiotic of me…"

He peeked back up. Niki was still crossed-armed and unblinking. His eyes flew down again.

"…Did I hurt you?", he finally asked, in a tone quieter than before.

Niki shifted in his stance. He breathed once before answering.

"Why did you do it, Gomora?"

"…Why I…I did – "

"Why'd you yell at me, grab me like that, and make a fool of me in front of those people?"

"…I was worried about you, Nikita."

"You gave me a bruise like this because you were worried about me?"

"I - …Niki, I was just…"

"Gomora, what made you think that you could treat me like that?"

"… … …"

"Gomora, I appreciate you inviting me into your home and taking care of me, but if that's going to involve you telling me what I can't do and coming close to dislocating my shoulder, then I really don't want to be around you."

"…Niki…I was just scared that you would be…"

"Be what?"

"…Well…found…if you left my place…"

"By who?"

"Well…police, and…"

"Gomora, the police have had me before, and they didn't bat an eyelash for an Experiment like me. You live in a wealthy apartment drive around in public in a cruiser, and say you have a job – don't you tell me that you're worried about any police."

"Niki…", Gomora practically pleaded, exasperated enough by now to look into the smaller Experiment's eyes.  
"I was just worried…"

"What? – worried about losing your new toy?", Niki snapped aggressively.  
"Worried that I'm gonna have spent two days in your apartment and eaten your food and left before you could fuck me?"

Gomora's eyes widened in surprise, as though the word 'fuck' had jolted him like electricity.

"…Niki-!", he exclaimed, somewhat gaspingly.  
"What - …why would you - ?..."

"I heard you", Niki told him, stonily.  
"By the bed, last night – what's that supposed to mean, I make you feel like you're gonna faint?"

"Niki, I said…I was…I just saying how you made me feel because I like you!"

"You like me enough to fuck? You like me so much that you grab me so hard that I think my arm's gonna break? You like me enough to shout at me as though I'm your dog?"

"_No!_...but, yes!...no!...I mean - !..."

More swiftly than he had moved in a while, Niki stepped forward, so he stood right in front of Gomora, before his host had a chance to step away, almost directly (angry) eye-to- (surprised) eye.

"Listen to me, Gomora", he hissed quietly, his host trapped between him and the sink's cabinet.  
"I don't know if it has much significance to you, coming from me, but you won't speak to me or touch me like that again…ever. You see what happens if you do."

Whether or not Niki's words had any significance upon Gomora's mind was obvious, however, as Gomora stood cornered and staring at Niki with a mixture of surprise and sudden tremor – as though he were a large predator who had just ambushed him.  
He wondered to himself, desperately, if he had really done such great wrong to face such an unexpected onslaught.  
Nevertheless, it seemed that it was all that he could do…

"…Yes, Niki…I won't", was all he could manage, staring into Niki's large, angry eyes.

Niki withdrew himself. He found himself breathing a bit forcefully. The entire apartment sat as still as a canyon; Gomora didn't make a peep in his own domain.  
Niki turned towards the bathroom's door and headed for it intently. Almost there, he heard Gomora whisper behind him – quietly, shaking, remorsefully.

"God…I'm really so sorry, Niki…I really didn't want to hurt you like that."

Niki had stopped in his tracks as Gomora spoke; he sighed to himself and was glad that Gomora didn't have to see his sad, doubt-stricken face. He began walking again.

"I like you, Niki…I'm so sorry if it upsets you. If I could, I'd try not to…but I can't."

Gomora watched Niki's thin, stoic back as Niki stood there, listening to him but not replying – it was perhaps the greatest thing which he could've done for him that day.

"…I like you too much to want to hurt you…and that's the truth. I'm so sorry about earlier, Niki…please believe me."

Niki stood there for a moment longer, breathing and listening, until Gomora's words had turned to recent memory. Finally, he stepped through the doorway and into the living-room; he felt absolutely horrible about himself.  
Returning to Gomora's room, he shed Gomora's shirt and sought his own pair of slacks, which were still lying out and still smelling of alcohol. Fishing through the pockets, he found his last package of cigarettes and his lighter. Taking both into his hands, he walked into Gomora's kitchen, opened a circular window, sat down on a chair, and proceeded to smoke through the remainder of his pack, until the he stubbed out the end of his last cigarette inside of a dirty pan.

Niki felt bad because what he had unleashed to Gomora was among many things which he had been longing to have the power to say to many individuals whom he had encountered in his lifetime, from Experiments in the lab to customers in the pouf. In his anger, he had imagined the dominant, abusive Gomora which he had known for but a minute down in the lounge and had forgotten all about the trying, long-winded, and hospitable Gomora who had sheltered him these past few days, for whatever reason…and Niki admitted to himself that he didn't believe it was simply for sex.  
Gomora had been hit with something which he didn't deserve…but Niki was not yet ready to apologize; he didn't know if he could, in the near future. He only hoped that Gomora would find some way to deal with it.

Nevertheless, it was odd that Niki didn't collect his few belongings and leave Gomora's apartment at this time – as a matter of fact, his first intention upon entering Gomora's room was to take his own clothes and leave (to where, he didn't know, but that was barely the subject in his mind). That he didn't do so was a surprise even to him, and to combat this surprise, on top of everything else which had happened to him that day, he turned to his smoking – frowned upon by Mel after what seemed a lifetime ago.

As Niki sat there, in the dirty kitchen (in which the sink was piled high with unwashed eating wares and utensils, and in which were housed two refrigerators next to the counter), he didn't attempt to ponder his reluctance to leave, but tried to clear his mind on nicotine fumes instead, as he held his head aloft by a palm on his forehead. He only knew of the odd feeling which had perpetuated itself inside of his stomach whilst he had been set upon leaving Gomora's department.  
Individuals around the universe might describe such a feeling intuition, instinct, suspicion, expanded sight, or even the presence of a "holy spirit". Whatever the cause of it, and whatever anybody's beliefs, it's what kept Niki sitting there in Gomora's kitchen, for better or for worse, feeling exhausted, confused, and sickly.

* * *

A few hours later, Gomora's cruiser was once more seen navigating its way down the dark, (surprisingly) rainy streets of the city district.  
Inside, exercising the use of windshield-wipers, sat Gomora, driving stoically and without music, his face an uncomfortable grimace.  
Under ordinary circumstances, he'd be fueling his adrenaline by turning up the volume on his favorite song ("_Perverse Hook-Gutting Massacre_" by Manotaur Skull) as he raced towards his target, attempting to catch his schedule to head his anticipation of the job to be done.  
Instead, he drove moderately, amongst other cars, with plenty of time to go before he had to be where he had to be. He focused himself only upon controlling his cruiser and finding the correct way, and checking behind his seat once to reassure himself that his sword and bag of equipment were all accounted for.  
He drove numbly, his mind preoccupied with other matters, as he further approached his destination, beneath the evident rain. 

Deciphering what was on Gomora's mind might not prove too difficult a challenge upon considering what his entire day had consisted of: an intimidating meeting with his employer, a frantic search for his guest, an accompanying encounter of the most unpleasant kind, and a very restrictive co-existence that spanned the rest of the day - Niki and Gomora, both of them still in confination of the apartment, had avoided eachother's presence for several hours until Gomora had announced that he was leaving to finish some work that had been assigned to him (which was met by a stoic response).  
It was with some relief that Gomora had left his own apartment – the mood that had been residing inside of it was absolutely dronerous. Besides, Niki hadn't seemed terribly affected by his departure – perhaps an hour or two of solitude would allow the little guy to combat the aggression out of his system.

Gomora admitted to himself that this might be a foolish and selfish way to conduct the thought of Niki's feelings, and he didn't regard it for very long.

Gomora gave himself no credibility when it came to relationships (or politics, or religion, or sex) – he had watched Argo and Aries and Sula and Luna with envy for so long, and now, he presented himself with self-doubt for rushing into (what he had hoped to be) possibilities for his own encounter with sex and romance.  
He felt stupid – Niki had never given him any impression to believe that he would be receptive to such things…he didn't even know if he liked guys at all.

Gomora felt angry at himself, overall – angry, confused, and tired.  
He wondered what Niki was doing at the moment – whether or not he was still sitting alone on the couch, staring at nothing. Gomora had wished ever so passionately (more than once) that he would be able to know what Niki was thinking, sometimes, and what was going on inside of his head…so he'd be able to know what to say or do – just to give himself the ability to keep that beautiful creature in his apartment from appearing so sad.

Gomora figured that he had always known that he'd been attracted to guys…but he had never felt anything greater than lust for anybody who he fancied by gaze.  
Niki was different – his unreceptiveness, tentativeness, and his self-protectiveness, so very un-understandable to Gomora, gave the red Experiment all of the reason which he felt that he needed to feel unattracted or averse to Niki…but, amazingly, it appeared to bring on a more sensitive assertiveness in his longing that Gomora had never expected of himself, and it appeared to even increase his longing for Niki. It was more than a game or a challenge for him to try and get close to the tan-furred Experiment – Gomora almost felt ashamed to admit to himself that it was almost a _need_.  
God, what _was_ it with Niki that made him feel like _that?_

Gomora knew, though, why he had been so violently concerned when he had arrived at his apartment earlier and found Niki gone – he had been terrified that LeFey, whose reach was forever indefinite, had confirmed his nightmare and…  
Gomora shook his head, and wished that he could close his eyes. He hated himself so much, above LeFey – how could he ever have let Niki into his life?...his monitored, controlled, and regulated life of missions and false contentedness? How would he ever be able to make this threat clear to Niki? – that he wasn't a possessive idiot, but merely concerned for his wellbeing because of a very real threat in his life?

"_God, I'm such a fucking idiot_…"

Gomora gripped the steering wheel and pressed on, passing underneath the car in front of him. Rising up in front of him in the business district was the towering building of _Huaxuan & Co_. Nearby would be his destination – the penthouse. Bax Huaxuan, the Ixfanonian, would be there, soon – an hour before midnight, and less than an hour he was to have to live.  
Gomora gathered all of his emotions, as he had done many times before, before entering a mission; it was always easy once he would become focused – he was imposable upon anyone and anything.  
The building was getting closer. Niki's face swam into Gomora's mind, and he closed his eyes just for a moment.

"Just tonight, Niki", he spoke softly, under his breath.  
"After tonight…I'll make it all better. I promise."

* * *

(_A/N: I do hope that was enjoyable. Just an early heads-up: the next chapter is to be more action-y than most other chapters of this fic. Please stay tuned, and I'll try and have it up by the end of this week.  
__Many _thank-you_s_ _to _Inferno Ermac_ for his first review to my fic – I hope you'll continue to supply me with constructive commerce. _Thank-you_s likewise go to all who were kind enough to review the latest chapter, and give me feedback on some things I asked. I do hope this chapter manages to amend what the last one lacked.  
__Just a note: this chapter is being completed only fifty-one minutes behind my quota…which means I'm getting better!  
__I'll have the next one up soon! See y'all again then!_) 


	20. Bleed To Serenity

(_A/N: welcome, readers, to what I hope will be a redeeming chapter for_ Elisir, _after two kinda-short works in which I really didn't fulfill my potential. Please read on_…)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 20

* * *

Bax Huaxuan, president of _Huaxuan & Co_. (a company which had been founded by his great-grandmother, originally as a processing plant), had sat through three long, toiling meetings, filled with employees, analysts, and advisors, all trying to tell him what to do and what not to do.  
He had heard it all before, it was true, but it appeared, as the signing of the deal came closer and closer, that everybody in his employ was putting in an extra effort to keep him from going through with his decision. They were indeed trying hard, which he gave them credit for – he had never, in all of his business-life, seen so much dedication put to make-believe reason and funky math, masquerading as logic when, in reality, it all came down to one notion: they were all afraid. They were terrified of him making the deal that would grant _Huaxuan & Co_. exclusive transferring rights to _Permantium_'s diamondsteel production, bringing the prior into direct association with _Galaxy Defense Industries_…and taking the rights away from _Permantium_. 

It was, immediately, perceived as a notion of the highest risk – not just from a financial standpoint (which was quite the contrary – with _Galaxy Defense_ choosing _H. & Co_. to handle the transportation of their processed materials, the company would see only profit in the near future), but from a physical, personal standpoint as well: _Huaxuan & Co_. would be the first company in recent history to attempt any sort of interaction with the businesses of the Perentil-operated company, which was known only for its efficiency and secrecy.  
It was common knowledge to Bax, as well as to anybody else, that the Perentils were mobsters. Who exactly was involved and what their overall intentions were had always been unclear, but a few facts stood firm: the Perentils were dangerous, they did not take kindly to interference in matters which they considered to be their own, and _Permantium_ was owned by LeFey – an individual so bound in ominous-ness that it seemed to emit by the very speaking of his name (everybody knew LeFey's name).

Bax had only seen LeFey once before, and that was on the television, during a heavily-covered murder trial: a Perentil employed of _Permantium_ was being tried for the attempted murder of the president of a rival company. LeFey had been seen outside of the courtroom one day, amongst his bodyguards, and reporters managed to wheedle a comment out of him, in which he vouched for his employee's innocence and claimed to sincerely hope that the justice and jury would call the right decision.  
The Perentil was sentenced to his lifetime in jail. What became of him was unknown, but the justice and the members of the jury whom had tried him (those who hadn't had time leave the planet) all eventually fell victim to vehicle-related accidents. Since then, LeFey had only been mentioned in quotes in the news or newspapers, when commenting on a federal investigation upon his diamondsteel plant.

"…_I can only comment upon the absurdity of these accusations … surely people have better things to do than to create lies about an honest company like my own … the very idea that I would physically intimidate a competitor of mine is beyond nonsensical … and his family, too? … no, I didn't know that it was an employee of mine to make suck claims – I will investigate such a notion immediately_…"

Bax could only imagine, inside of his head, that cruel, cold mouth forming those words; he remembered the Perentil's somewhat-weak, humming voice speaking such phrases to an in-print-only reporter, sitting in some office inside of that poisonous building.  
The police's investigation of _Permantium_ brought nothing to light, however, and the company appeared to go on, on regular highs and lows, with everybody's mind filled with suspicion and knowing…but too frightened to speak against it.  
_Permantium_, however, had recently picked up in business, following the liquidation of a rival diamondsteel plant of the same planet, after it suffered an embarrassing uncovering of mass-embezzling; _Permantium_, it seemed, had never done better, and, sans for _Huaxuan & Co_., there was nothing to stop the company from entering the full-scale market, upon a road of competitor-bereft diamondsteel-producing-and-transferring.

Bax, whilst thinking of this, had stepped from his office building of work out onto the dark, rainy street, had hailed a taxi, and was now exiting the vehicle outside of a towering penthouse hotel. Anxious to get inside, he paid the taxi driver and hurried through the doors, meeting and greeting uniformed employees as they went about their work.  
After some hold-ups due to everybody knowing who he was and wanting to say a word to him, the Ixfanonian managed to procure himself a solitary elevator in which he took refuge, shaking the precipitation from his shoulders and his briefcase.  
Like a few other species, Bax wasn't of extraordinary stature: he stood a comfortable two meters tall, and was thin in build. His eyes were of muddled silver, and his light-colored hair hung at neck-length around his head. He was plain-faced but officious looking, and occasionally wore glasses.  
He observed all of this inside of the elevator's mirror before pressing the button to carry him to his high-rise suite.

Not even Bax fully knew why he had done what he had done, in appealing to _Galaxy Defense_ to allow his company to handle the Perentils' diamondsteel on its way to them…there was, after all, no real resentment (besides the street-common wariness) which he harbored towards _Permantium_, the Perentils, or LeFey. Bax was of an upper-crust family who had no dealings with anything of the sort before, so he possessed no experience to conduct such a move out of personal spite. Neither was he a thrill-seeker, or had a death wish.  
He had simply sat back one day, observed his doing-okay company, considered the possibilities of gaining, and had finally settled on the notion that he would engineer a deal to bring business to his company by way of _Permantium_ diamondsteel and _Galaxy Defense Industries_. The Perentils didn't scare him, from his position – after all, how could they object to a fair appeal to the intergalactic company whom was free to choose how to conduct its business?

Such thinking, he had been told, was naïve and foolhardy, and he knew that such a saying wasn't untrue…but it didn't matter.  
The deal was literally hours away from being finalized, and so far, there hadn't been a peep of protest out of _Permantium_. The directors of _Galaxy Defense_, Bax imagined, must be wringing their hands in anticipation of the ensuing deal. Everything was set and ready to take its course.  
And yet, his board of directors still very nearly shouted at him just earlier today, his advisors wrung their hands in sweaty exasperation, and his wife, Ytorpa, had taken their two children and flown off to the planet Zemon, after tearfully saying that she was unable to be around with him putting himself in such danger.

The elevator stopped on the 115th floor of the hotel, and Bax stepped into an empty, ornate hallway. The door to his room lay in the center of the hallway, almost in front of the elevator. He approached it, unlocked it with the slide of a card key, and it slid aside, mechanically, to admit him into his darkened suite. Bax closed the door behind himself and alighted the place, revealing a spacious, well-decorated quarter which housed a wide, step-down-into den, a fully-accessorized kitchen and bathroom, and a roomy bedroom which housed a wide, silk-sheeted bed.  
The Ixfanonian set down his briefcase and removed his coat, revealing his slim build, beneath a shirt. He went into the kitchen, drank a glass of citric juice, and stood before the counter for a while, whilst the rain droned against the glass walls that surrounded the living room.

The Perentils were brutal - Bax knew that. He knew that the enigmatic LeFey wouldn't sit by quietly and watch as a fine part of his business was taken from him. He knew that the Perentils would most likely attempt to prepare some kind of counter-measure – either against Bax himself, or against the entire company.  
His decision to perform such a deal against _Permantium_ hadn't been riskless, and he had known this before he had orchestrated the measure. Nevertheless, Bax had taken it upon himself to make very public that the deal was strictly his idea alone, and that he was the main figure in all of this…that way, he figured, whatever retaliation LeFey the Perentil might have planned would be directed at him, and at no one else. He was glad, secretly, that his family had evacuated themselves, and that he'd be doing the same, soon. He wouldn't put it below the Perentils to launch some kind of action before the deal was to be signed, if they were attempting to hinder it being made. The only logical way to go about it, it seemed, was to target him, Bax Huaxuan himself, who was the only one on his team truly willing to go through with what he had planned…everybody else would be too happy to step back and send _Permantium_ an apology.

Bax knew that if his life had ever been in danger, it was now, in the darkness of the night, whilst he stood solitary inside of his own rented suite.

He had not gone without taking precautions of his own, however: downstairs, he had passed at least two individuals clothed in uniforms different than the hotel workers, armed with pistols in their belts. They were security guards – upscaled to the hotel just for tonight. There were more, Bax knew, and he reassured himself that they were on patrol in and around the hotel and on the lookout for any Perentil in the area; nobody went in or out of the hotel without their knowing, and that thought was conserting. Bax felt safe enough to take a second drink, consider a shower, and consider sleeping.

But first, he stepped into the den and peered out of the windowed walls, from over a thousand feet above the ground. Before his gaze, the city was nothing more than a shadowy quarry of individual lights and spires, shooting down into the ground from up so high.  
In the distance, Bax could make out the lights of the four skyscrapers which strongheld the _Permantium_ factory. They stood intimidating, even from this distance – Bax figured it must've been the darkness in which they stood that sent a shiver down his spine as he slowly sipped his drink, contemplating what LeFey the Perentil must be thinking at the moment – was he commiserating about matters concerning the deal?...or was he at rest, or even asleep?...did Perentils even sleep? Or were they as vampiric as they were demonic?

Bax shook his head and turned from the living room, heading back towards the kitchen to deposit his glass before making his way towards the bathroom, where he stripped, turned on the shower, and told himself, as though he were a child, that there was absolutely nothing to worry about.  
Besides…it'd all be done after tomorrow.

* * *

"_I ain't got a name  
__Don't got a face  
__No fingerprints  
__Or DNA_

"_I am always out of sight  
__A shadow in the mist  
__Don't need no alibi  
_'_Cause I don't exist_"

-_Triggerman_, Alice Cooper

* * *

Gomora didn't move until he heard the uneven splattering of water upon ceramic, which indicated that Bax Huaxuan was in the shower.  
Gomora crept out of the corner of the ceiling that was hidden by one of the kitchen's suspended cabinets, crawling out of the shadows, upon the ceiling.  
His fur was hidden by a black jumpsuit of some slick material which covered his entire upper and lower body, sans the claws of his feet and hands (he only had one set extended) and his head, upon which his ears were laid back, his mohawk still astanding, and his eyes asquint. His sword, set in its sheathe, was attached securely to his back by way of a fastening which was hooked around his chest.

Gomora's handling of the surface which he crawled upon was so fine that his claws left no scratch-marks upon ceiling as he climbed from the kitchen to the living room and dropped soundlessly into the den, landing upon three appendages, in a pose which demonstrated his tremendous balance.  
Gomora had cursed himself multiple times whilst he had been hiding in the kitchen: he had been excessively sloppy in beginning his mission, and was convinced several times that he had blown his cover – luckily, the Ixfanonian had remained unaware of his presence, even after he had stood right beneath him, drinking juice.

Gomora had parked his cruiser in an alley a few blocks away from the hotel. He had changed into his jumpsuit hurriedly and had stored the various appliances which he might be needing inside of the pockets of the suit before securing his outfit and moving in.  
Had the buildings been anything less than skyscrapers, he would've traveled by rooftop, but, in this case, he was made to scurry upon the sidewalk. Luckily, the ongoing rain had discouraged just about everybody to stay from the sidewalks, and there were few cars out, so Gomora reached the vicinity of the stead unseen – two minutes behind schedule.  
There were guards patrolling the main entrance. Gomora had counted on this possibility, and it didn't inconvenience him too much – he simply sought out the closest unattended side of the massive spire and began his vertical traverse upwards, up the side of the building.  
He crawled quickly, hoping to make up for lost time, and only realized, after seeing someone through the glass, that he was climbing up the windows of the penthouse. He was quick to change his course, and bit glad to revert to climbing upon steel rather than glass – the glass was much more slippery in the rain.

Gomora had counted floor-after-floor until he reached what he had calculated to be Bax Huaxuan's suite – 115th floor, room 573, centered.  
Crawling upon the plexiglass wall which separated the apartment from the outside, Gomora put his ultra-fine claws to use and managed to carve himself hair-quality hole, circular, and large enough for himself to climb through.  
He had dropped into the dark confines of the den and was happy to be out of the rain, but realized that there was no time to rest. Setting the circular sheet of glass back into place, he produced a tiny grease-welder from a pocket of his jumpsuit and traced over his incision – this hid the evidence of his entry to the immediate eye.

Bax Huaxuan had not yet arrived. Gomora took a minute to survey the apartment, and quickly created a replica of its layout inside of his mind – den, stairs, kitchen, hallway, bedroom, bathroom.  
Gomora searched through all of the cabinets and drawers that he could find and eventually unearthed what he had been looking for: two pistols – one in the nightstand of the bedroom, and the other in a cabinet in the hallway. He took both of these and hid them behind a shelf – not the most effective hiding place, in the long run, but all he needed was to misplace the weapons to keep Bax confused and from getting to them.

That was when the Ixfanonian had arrived, and Gomora, who had intentionally left the light off, made for his hiding place before he could be seen.  
The wait for Bax to enter the shower, however, had been trepidatious: Gomora was sure that Bax would notice the incised circle of the glass where Gomora had let himself in, and know that something was awry. He had stood ever so close to where Gomora had entered that the Experiment had held his breath, hoping dearly that his victim would find some way to ignore the grease-covering.  
He did. Bax Huaxuan had eyed something through the glass for a while before heading into the bathroom and stepping into the shower. Gomora had worried that his expulsion of air in his sigh of relief would've come to Bax's attention, but the ninja's luck ensued.

As the shower continued to spray, Gomora went about his objectives.  
After having hidden the guns, he removed from another pocket of his jumpsuit a small, metallic device which he activated with the press of a button and attached to the ceiling of the living room; at once, it began sending out silent, disruptive impulses which malfunctioned every telephone inside of the apartment (and possibly the next): all that was heard through their receivers would be a static buzzing.  
With this completed, Gomora approached the door of the apartment. It was metallic, opened automatically, and could be unlocked by way of a card key. Under ordinary circumstances, it would take either the room's original card or the hotel administrator's key to open or lock the door, but, again, Gomora produced a device of his own from a pocket of his jumpsuit.

Working hastily, Gomora inserted the end of a coil of plastic film inside of the card-reader's scanner, and, controlling it from a handheld remote to which the film was attached, sent an array of electric impulses through the machine, disabling its scanner from both sides and activating the door's overriding lock-mechanism.  
Gomora stuffed the film-connected remote back into his jumpsuit and licked the area above his upper lip; he was sweating, but not done yet…even though it appeared that Bax was coming along with his shower.

Reaching into yet another pocket, the dark-clothed Experiment produced a palm-sized, pressurized spray-bottle. It was red, a bit weighty, and labeled '_Audnox Precipitate – Liquid Desonarizer_'.  
Handling the bottle carefully as he climbed onto the wall surrounding the doorway, Gomora sprayed the contents of the bottle over the door's entirety – from its frame to the tiny cracks in the spaces around the panel.  
To the unobservant eye, this seemed to wield no apparent effect, but, microscopically, the bioeffective spray produced by the bottle consisted of a degenerative mixture which grouped to form an ultra-dense, transparent 'block', which, among many things, was recognized as a very effective barrier for soundwaves.  
The effect of it and the material itself would degenerate within half an hour, which was more than the time that Gomora figured that he would need…as he heard the shower's spray cease and Bax Huaxuan step out of the shower.

Gomora quickened his pace; hurrying back over to the den, he deposited something small upon the table in front of the center-couch.

Bax had been quick in drying himself – Gomora saw, out of the corner of his eye, the Ixfanonian pulling on his bathrobe. Nearly slipping in his haste, Gomora leapt over the table and sought out his hiding place. He was, by now, sweating at the brow.  
He heard the Ixfanonian running the water in the sink in the bathroom, then heard the sound of him brushing his teeth. Another running of the water. A spitting of water into the basin.  
Gomora realized suddenly, in horror, that he had left the den's light on – his reflection, from his hiding place, would be visible in the glass walls.  
He heard the Ixfanonian finish in the bathroom. Footsteps accompanied.  
Had he remembered, Gomora would've been able to temporarily short-circuit the lights of the den, but there was no time, now – he was desperate.

Taking a chance, just as Bax Huaxuan stepped from the bathroom, Gomora leaned around his hiding place's corner, pointed a wand-shaped appliance at a strategic mark within the ceiling, and, with a clicking sound, magnetically disabled the entire series-circuited lights surrounding the den. The area fell into dimness – and Gomora, with the aid of the now-one-way reflection, could see directly into the den.  
It would've been so easy just to go in there while the Ixfanonian had been showering and cut him in half…but that wasn't how it was to be done.

Gomora would've liked to have cursed as he jumped back into his hiding-place: LeFey always had to have it this way.

* * *

"_I'm pure non-entity  
__Don't even look for me  
__I watch you when you sleep_" 

-_Triggerman_, Alice Cooper

* * *

Bax looked up as he stopped in the bathroom's doorway, his eyes fixated upon the den. Though unsure of whether or not it had been a trick of his eyes, he was sure that he had seen the lights lit above the den dim unexpectantly.  
He stared, his hands still as they paused in their process of tying his bathrobe closed, whilst a few drops of water dripped for the tips of his slick, damp hair. He waited for a moment, wondering if whatever the effect had been would repeat itself. Nothing happened, and the room remained as still as a tomb.  
Blinking uneasily, Bax stepped from the bathroom into the wide walkway of his suite and approached a light switch opposite to the den. He clicked it once, still eyeing the living room, and the lights overhead flickered feebly.  
Bax assured himself that it had been nothing more than a short circuit, and intended to call down into the hotel lobby in a while to report the problem. He hoped, though, that the television had not been affected – he was hoping to catch the late-night news before going to bed.

Bax headed into the kitchen to prepare himself a bowl of nakku noodles – his lunch hadn't been very satisfying, and, without any time for dinner, he had been going around for the majority of the day with an empty stomach. He supposed, whilst he prepared his meal in boiling water, that it was amongst the causes of his headache, which had trailed him despite his shower.  
Then again, he considered, perhaps it was stress which he didn't fully recognize as being there…after all, if one does intend to unwelcomely interfere in Perentil affairs, one does have to masquerade a bit – and Bax Huaxuan would be lying if he were to say that he wasn't the least bit anxious about what he was doing. After all, he didn't usually keep firearms in his possession. He wouldn't call his fearlessness a masquerade, but it certainly helped, in this situation, if he thought of himself as brave.  
He was beyond second-thoughts, though, and tried to remain secure in the fact that he had taken just about every precaution there was to keep himself safe…and that his wife and children were, likewise, secure and far away. He would call them before he went to bed.

Pouring his aromatic meal into a bowl and supplying himself with a fork, Bax stepped down into the den and settled himself upon the couch. Finding the television's remote control, he, with hope, attempted to activate the television…and found himself fulfilled, as the large, rectangular screen illuminated unto the beginning of the evening's news…telling of the recent explosion of an interplanetary bus during mid-flight.  
Bax was relieved to know that his family had boarded the bus of another company.

The Ixfanonian sat back and ate through his meal slowly, while the reports upon the news slowly traveled from bad to worse – the entire galaxy, it seemed, had experienced a trepidatious day, amongst several mass-accidents, the death of a famous pianist, and an escalation of the Marth conflict (2,600 Galactic troops killed, to-date).

Bax yawned and raised his hand to his mouth after a while, wiping away a line of grease from his lips. He was getting tired, and the news was becoming dull. The entire evening had been quiet, with the exception of the rain continuing to drone upon the windows of the building. Nothing, it seemed, was going to happen.  
Bax felt ready for bed. Lifting up his bowl from the table, he stood up to bring it into the kitchen…but, even as he turned, his head remained directed at the coffee-table, and his eyes fixed upon an envelope lying there.

He hadn't seen it before, as his bowl had been standing on top of it.  
It was labeled, in large, looping handwriting: "_Huaxuan_" (by coincidence, it seemed, the name was encircled by the stain of moisture left by the bowl).  
Bax froze. He looked up from the letter and around the room, suddenly expecting it to be filled with people he hadn't noticed before, but found no one.  
A report was sounding from the television, iterating a bombing raid upon a Marth base.

"…_the damage, as you can see, is extensive – hit hardest was the base's keep, believed to be full of militants_…"

Bax glanced across the walkway at the door. A feeling inside of him was telling him to leave the room…for he knew that the envelope had not been there before, and this was almost certainly not a note from the hotel services.

"…_1,200 militants at least, it's believed by Galactic Armed Forces, in this highly-strategic installation, only less than a kilometer away from a Marthan civilian settlement, although it's not known if any of the explosions_…"

Tenderly, the president of _Huaxuan & Co_. re-approached the table and set down his bowl upon its edge, and reached, with a cautious hand, towards the envelope.

"…_it's been confirmed that one explosion did hit the small settlement, less than a kilometer from the base, which, it has been uncovered, once stood as a fortress in protection of the settlement in-question_…"

His greasy fingertips touched the parcel carefully. It didn't feel hot or anything else abnormal for an envelope (aside for it being an envelope – nobody wrote mail by hand anymore, nowadays…not for a hundred years).  
He took it into his hands and held it before him. "_Huaxuan_" peered back at him – in Turian, the third and sixth letters appeared reminiscent of a basic illustration of eyes.

"…_our cameras on the ground are now going from the remains of the base installation to the settlement, which was surely the housing of several, if not all of the forces opposing from the installation_…"

Bax Huaxuan traced a finger across the envelope's seal, severing its lining and opening the letter. From inside of it, two bits of paper fell upon the table.

"…_we're now looking at what appears to be a demolished homestead…we do not yet know how many or even if civilians were housed in these parts, but…oh_…"

Bax reached down to the table and picked up one of the fallen items. As he did, his elbow knocked the bowl from its perch upon the table; it shattered, but the Ixfanonian didn't seem to notice as he held up his first find.  
A picture, taken recently of his wife and children, in-posed and wallet-sized, looked back at him.

"…_I'm…it appears that this dwelling here was indeed occupied during the bomb's impact…oh…we…it appears as though this was a family…we can see a female and at least two children_…"

"_That picture was inside of my wallet_", Bax said to himself, the tone in his mind quavering, his thoughts made inconclusive by this revelation.  
"_How could've…how is this…?_"

"…_at least twelve people in here…almost certainly non-militant_…"

His wife, Ytorpa, and his children, Zans and Ileex, together on this photograph, had been held by someone else.  
The thought snaked through his head, this way and that, as a glistening arachnid of fear crawled down his spine and into his heart.  
As it did, his eyes fell upon the other bit of paper, which lay, small and folded, upon the table.

"…_ladies and gentlemen, the disturbingness of these pictures, I can…I can only hope that this isn't being shown live. Can we turn the camera off?...I…oh, my goodness…oh, my goodness_…"

The photograph still in his hands, Bax reached down and picked up the remaining bit of paper. With trembling hands, he unfolded it, and indulged the message inside.

"…_oh, my goodness…oh…oh, please no – I can't do this…that's an arm…I can't do this_…"

"**_I will take joy in eating your family.  
_**_**Yours truly,  
**_**_LeFey_**"

"_That's an entire family in there! They're slaughtered! Oh, God, I -_ "

An extensive, electronic bleeping noise overrode the frantic reporter's narration, leaving the television alight only with the image off a swerving, unsteady camera catching the sights of mutilated Marthan bodies.  
Bax read the message that had been written to him over again, barely able told onto the note and the photograph at the same time.  
His gaze fell from them as he looked up, expecting to see the television's image before him…but he saw only an unfamiliar character, short in stature and clad in black, stepping out from behind the massive television, where he had been standing without the den's lights to illuminate his reflection in the glass which he had been facing.

Bax Huaxuan swallowed for the last time, as sweat began to bead upon his forehead. The note and the photograph fell from his hands as the creature stepped in front of the television's screen, thereby silhouetted by the images of the bloodied corpses of the Marthan civilians.  
Any and all lack of confidence had left Gomora's face, as he stood, steel-featured and upright, across from Bax, his ears spiked above his head.

"…Is it you?", the Ixfanonian choked after a moment, with tears in his eyes.  
"Did you do this?"

Gomora reached over his shoulder, and, with the unmistakable sound of sliding metal, he unsheathed his sword; it appeared to glow in the dim light as Bax's fearful eyes fell upon it, before settling back upon Gomora's newfound, demonic grin.

"Just call me 'death' ", was all that he whispered in reply.

"_Oh, God_…", Bax managed to choke out.

Gomora leapt at the Ixfanonian, slashing at him with sword. Bax Huaxuan cried out and fell away, tumbling over himself as he tried hurriedly to climb up the den's four stairs.  
Gomora's grin remained in-place; that attack had only been for intimidation.  
Numbstruck with panic, Bax managed to scramble to his feet and immediately ran for the hall cabinet. He ripped open the drawer and frantically search for the gun that was supposed to be there, but instead, he found nothing.  
Gomora snorted as he stepped up the den's stairs, his teeth bared in his grin as he approached Bax.  
With another cry, Bax found the keycard to his room and scampered, tripping, across the length of the walkway and violently slid it through the door's card-reader again and again.

"Come on! Come on!", he hissed frantically, driving the card through its lock.

His only response remained an ever-sounding, negative beep, and the door refused to open. Bax pounded upon it with all his might.

"_Help! Somebody help me! Help!_"

"Somebody help him! He's gonna get his head cut off!", came the voice of the sword-wielding Gomora from behind him, equally loud.

Bax spun around as Gomora approached him – sword in one hand, grin still in-place. The Ixfanonian braced himself against the steel, terror having flooded his insides as the assassin neared him.

"…What do you want!", he screamed, desperately.  
"I can give you anything! What do you want!"

Gomora took his sword in both of his hands. Bax glanced to his side, and realized that he could still flee into the bathroom. He dashed for it, but Gomora had already decided that he didn't want to chase his victim any longer.  
Springing forward, he launched himself at the fleeing Ixfanonian, hitting him squarely in the back with both of his feet. Bax cried out in desperation and pain as he fell forward and onto his stomach, his assaulter still atop him.  
Despite the incoherent state of his mind, one instinct remained in his mind: "_crawl for your life_".  
He had barely advanced but a few inches before, with surprising strength for his size, the attacker gripped him by his shoulder and forced him over onto his back. Bax stared up, terrified, into two dark, luminous orbs as the creature shoved his face into the Ixfanonian's.

"You can give me anything?", Gomora snarled at him, one hand gripping Bax's throat as the other held the sword behind him.  
"What about a life where I can do what I want, be what I want, and fuck whom I want? Can you give me a life where I can just have a boyfriend and be happy about it?"

Bax lay beneath Gomora, terrified, as an image of his childhood flashed before his eyes, as though those cold, dark eyes of Gomora had become a theater.

"…_Please_…", he begged, his voice barely a choked whisper.  
"_D-Don't_ – "

"Guess ya can't", Gomora said, rearing back up.

Taking the sword back into both hands, Gomora jumped up as he slashed the blade across the ground once, severing Bax Huaxuan's head from his body with barely so much as a jolt to it.  
The Ixfanonian's eyes fell half-closed after his life had left him, and his body ceased to move from there on.

Gomora stepped back from the corpse, after he had landed back on his feet, breathing heavily as he surveyed his work.  
His slice had been so quick and so flawless that, sans red line across the Ixfanonian's neck which was quickly drawing blood, it would be difficult to visually determine that he had been completely decapitated. The minimal line of blood that had flung upon the wall was, likewise, small and symmetrical – it was almost artistic.

The red Experiment, who had begun sweating again, sighed and cleaned the blade of his sword with a bit of cloth which he produced and turned away from the body, attempting to forget it.  
Returning to the walkway, he scaled the ceiling once more and removed the phone-disrupting device from its position and returned it to his pocket. He fell back to the floor, and didn't bother to be quiet about it.  
Heading back into the den, Gomora collected the photograph and the note and stored it back inside of the envelope, which disappeared into another one of his pockets.

He really had no idea what the envelope had contained – the plan had simply been to watch Bax, through his reflection, until he had gone through the contents of the envelope…after which, hopefully, he'd be horrorstruck, and Gomora would make his dramatic entrance, toy with him for a short while, and then kill him hideously.

Gomora knew that LeFey's orders upon killing his opponents in such a way, through him, Gomora, was but an extension of the Perentil's power…over the city, and over the Experiment.  
The fact that LeFey always insisted upon such methods of execution displayed both his evident sadism and his total trust in Gomora – only someone whom he felt was in complete obedience of him (and, granted, able to pull off the acrobatics) would be assigned such a cinematic scenario of slaying to play out – from sheet to reality (LeFey never gave his specific orders of killing personally to Gomora, but preferred that Gomora be handed a detailed description of it on-paper, to be presented to him along with whatever tools he might need).

Gomora tracked around the apartment for a short while longer, observing if anything seemed out-of-place because of his presence; the broken bowl, he decided, could be left, and the body of the Ixfanonian could likewise remain the way it was until somebody investigated the room. Gomora opted to turn the lights and television off – there was no need for anybody to believe that Bax Huaxuan was staying up the entire night.  
The only direct signs of his presence would be Bax's body and the sure-to-be-discovered incision of the hole through which Gomora entered…and would be exiting through. There was, to his knowledge, nothing in or outside of the apartment which would be able to point the undisputed finger of blame at LeFey or anybody else…just as LeFey wanted it: the Perentil had always been fascinated by Gomora's amazing, ghost-like abilities…and spared no expense to mock the crime investigation with it.

The assassin made sure that he was entirely collected and the apartment reproofed (the appliances would regain their uses soon enough) before he climbed back through the window, replacing it one final time, and grateful that his claws left no fingerprints.

He scaled down the building, in the still-pouring rain, evaded the patrolling guards, and began moving back along the street – nearly forty minutes before midnight.  
He reclaimed his cruiser, untouched in the alley, and turned it into the street once he found an opening between the cars.  
As he drove from the building of his mission, he was reassured by the fact that he heard no siren approaching – it'd surely be the next day before Huaxuan was discovered inside of his room.

Gomora felt dirty – the jumpsuit always made him sweat, and he wanted a shower. He'd have to change before he returned to his own apartment, though – after all, Niki might still be awake.  
He allowed thoughts of the peach-furred Experiment to fill his mind…as he found it best to keep his mind occupied after he had completed a mission (he had learned, after his first 'outing', that prolonged thoughts on his killings left him feeling terribly depressed…and, LeFey, who'd be sure to want to see him at least once more before another assignment, didn't enjoy seeing him like that).

Gomora had, long ago, stopped asking himself why he killed certain people, and whether or not it was 'right' – he killed because LeFey told him to, and because he kept him sustained…and because he scared him.  
Killing felt no easier to Gomora to than anyone else, despite his assassin's masquerade…so to kill someone, when it actually came down to it, he gathered his doubts, frustrations, and anxieties, and unleashed them upon his victim…as he had done earlier, with poor Bax. It was the only way which he could fully reveal what he was really afraid of – the only real unveiling of his heart to anybody. His victims saw it briefly before he killed them.

Gomora clicked on his car's stereo, when all of his thoughts were quickly making him feel ill.

"_It really doesn't matter who you are  
__Your face doesn't matter to me  
__Don't care about what you want  
__I'm gonna kill you and eat your heart_"

Gomora drove on into the night – to return his supplies and to go back to his apartment.  
Already, amidst his vicious music, he was contemplating ways to gain Niki's feelings towards him…now that, hopefully, LeFey would leave him alone for a while.

* * *

(_A/N: I hope that was enjoyable – it's certainly back up to my standard in length. I hope I didn't lose detail towards the end of it, though. Overall, however, I'm satisfied, and I'd be very thankful to all who will take the time to review.  
__Appropriately, at the 20th chapter of_ Elisir, _this fic has become, to-date, the longest story within the Lilo & Stitch category, with over 115,000 words. I'm very proud of this fact.  
__Thanks to all whom took the time to review my last chapter, and those who have added themselves to the list of reviewers to this fic – I will continue to do my very best to continue making this fic exceptional. Until then…_) 


	21. Sundae

(_A/N: welcome, dear readers, to chapter 21 of_ Elisir. _I do hope, after the active previous chapter, that a less action-y chapter, such as this one, will not deter you from my story. Please read on_…)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 21

* * *

"_Blind, Intoxicated Rape_"  
"_Puncture Wounds of the Retina_"  
"_Gangbang Slaughterhouse_"  
"_Heart-Hungry Arachnid_"  
"_Drowned in Torrid Bile_"  
"_A Cacophony of Hate_"  
"_Massacre by the Worm_"  
"_The End of the Putrid Faith_"  
"_Screaming, Choking, Dying_" 

Niki read the tracks off of various albums as he re-examined Gomora's shelf of CDs. He did so out of boredom – his cigarettes were long-gone, the television was void of anything of interest, and he didn't want to leave the apartment (for both the reasons that it had long since become dark outside, and that he had identified taking walks with a negative feeling…due to obvious experiences).  
He thought to himself, as he shelved through the collection of gross CDs, that this wasn't the best choice to spend the very late evening, either.

"_Surrogate Born-Again of the Devil_"  
"_Knife Molestation_"  
"_Incised With Razorblades (Makes You Go Crunch)_"  
"_Underground Gorefest of Abominations_"  
"_Spines Split Down the Middle_"  
"_Hammered to Bony Splinters_"

The titles were grotesque. The illustrations of the album covers were of some things that Niki might have terrible dreams of. He didn't even want to know what the music itself sounded like.  
Niki had yet to identify any manner of appeal to such a genre, and what Gomora so very enjoyed about it, enough to fill his entire shelf with, was still eluding him. Rightfully so, he had told himself – what would make anybody want to listen to descriptions of rape, murder, and mutilation, by the voice of something that was so diabolical, it couldn't be heard anywhere else, was beyond him.  
Nothing else was to be found in Gomora's shelf of CDs – nothing remotely melodic, sane, or easy to listen to…all there was blood and sadism.

…And what in the world was "_I Ate the Spine of Misery to Escape the Pain_" supposed to mean?

There was a sound at the door. Niki turned just as Gomora pushed it open and stepped inside of the dimmed apartment. Despite the darkness, he clearly appeared to be tired, and his face looked absolutely worn.

"_Oh_…Niki…hey, there", he said slowly, in surprise, but sounding each word as though he were very exhausted.  
"Still up?..."

Nikita nodded and carefully replaced the album which he had been observing back upon the shelf.

"…Checking out my albums again?", the red Experiment asked, a touch of hopeful amusement in his bushed voice.  
"Y'know, there's no shame in being interested…if you ever want to, just slide one of those into my stereo and give it a listen…you just might enjoy it."

"Gomora…", Niki began slowly, still surveying the filled shelf beneath the stereo.  
"May I ask you something?"

"…Of course", his host replied, with renewed interest and awareness as he stepped closer to Niki.  
"What's up?"

"Why do you listen to this kind of music?"

Gomora paused in his step, surprised at the nature of the question; it wasn't what he had been expecting (it wasn't the first time, though, that his choice in music had come into question by someone else: Argo, having visited his apartment before with Aries, had before very politely wanted to know what possible enjoyment could be reaped from such utter filth - it had been surprising for Argo to release a word of such magnitude, but the question had only come up after he had asked Gomora to turn the music down, on the account of that it made Aries erratic).

"Well…why not?", he replied with a shrug.  
"I mean…people like all kinds of music. I just like this kind."

"…Gomora, this isn't music – it's just crashing and grunting."

"…Who're you to judge?"

"All that these songs are about is rape and torture…how can you listen to such things?"

"…It's not a really distinguishable sound, Niki – you really can't hear too well what's being said in most of the songs."

"What's a title like…_'Cannibalistic Obsession_' supposed to mean?"

"…Somebody actually asked what's in the nakku."

The two Experiments looked upon eachother; Niki still appeared betwixt an emotion of disgust and skepticism, while Gomora looked upon Niki with something suggesting a touch of discomfort.  
He sighed softly, and began walking towards Niki again.

"Look…", he began slowly, adjusting the shelf as Niki stepped aside.  
"I know it's not the popular deal, what I listen to…and I can see why it's sick; I know that this stuff is perverse and disgusting…but it's what I listen to. I enjoy it."

He moved towards the direction of the couch; without being asked, Niki followed him as he sat down.

"…But why do you?", the smaller Experiment asked.  
"Why do you like it?"

The red Experiment shrugged again.

"It's better than a lot of the other stuff", he answered.  
"But that's a manner of taste, again. I like heavy music – the heavier, the better. It just so happens that the heaviest music is also the most disgusting."

He had sat down on the far end of the couch, as if to hint that there was no danger in Niki having a seat at the other end. The smaller Experiment pondered this for a moment, and considered a manner of defiance in continuing to stand…but he found no sense in it (and had likewise tired a bit since the events of earlier in the day), and, eventually, took a seat, himself.

"I don't like that kind of music", he admitted.  
"If it's…if I can't understand what's being said, or if what's being said is along the lines of this…I don't like. I don't really like too much music."

"Don't like music?", Gomora resounded, disbelievingly.  
"I can't imagine a life without it!"

Niki shrugged.

"I like some stuff that I hear…but I've never had the…opportunity to really investigate any of it."

"I could buy you – "

"No, thank you."

Gomora's face fell at the interruption, and he looked down his chest and away from Niki.

"…Sometimes, I get frustrated about things", he said, quietly.  
"Nothing specific…just frustrated, or angry, or excited about this or that. During those times, it gives me a sort of redeeming feeling to listen to stuff like this. That might be a bit difficult to understand…but that's the deal."

Niki looked over at Gomora. A tiny hint of a smile, however involuntarily, crossed his face.

"…You must get frustrated a lot."

Gomora nodded.

"It's my work. Takes it right outta me. And people. People drive me up the wall."

"Figures."

"Which part? – my work, or people?"

Niki shook his head, and looked the other way, into the darkened kitchen.

"I wish I had some relief like that to fall back on", he remorsed, not looking at his host.  
"All I have are cigarettes."

Gomora wrinkled his nose at the cigarettes' mention, but he cocked his head to the side as Niki spoke.

"…I guess you have some frustration in your life, too, huh?", he suggested.

Niki didn't respond, but just sat there. Gomora took his silence for a positive answer, though; he knew that Niki remained still too detached from him for him (Gomora) to ask him any further about his life (as well as about the strange vase which he had parked by his table), but he sensed the smaller Experiment's calmness (as sad of a calmness as it may be), and realized that, following the unsettling events of the afternoon, if Niki were ever even partways open to anything, now would be the time.

"…Hey, Niki?", he asked, raising his head.  
"Whaddaya say that we go somewhere tomorrow, huh?...no place special or anything, but what do you think of the two of us taking a walk through town during noon, huh? Whaddaya think of that?"

The younger Experiment raised and turned his head in surprise, though he didn't allow its maximum to show upon his face; any invitation from Gomora, he felt, was something to be wary of.

"…I dunno…", he tested, his voice slow and contemplative.  
"…What would we be doing?"

"Whatever you want to do", Gomora answered, spreading his arms to enunciate his point.  
"I could tour you around the part of the neighborhood in which I plow my commerce, we maybe could have lunch somewhere…we could even go and see a movie at the theatre, if you'd like. Absolutely no restrictions."

Niki wasn't sure how to reply to this.  
After about three nights in Gomora's apartment, it seemed a very freeing thought to leave…again.  
The realization that he had never had to opportunity to do so before, in his entire life, dawned upon him again, but he couldn't help but think that Gomora's offer was nothing more than an attempt to replace his past memory of venturing out (and returning) with a new and happier one.  
…But absolutely nothing, he felt, could be gained by remaining inside of the apartment for a day longer, with nothing to do; there appeared to be no loss in doing as Gomora suggested…and Niki figured that to oblige wouldn't be considered being too nice towards Gomora.

"…When would we go?", he asked.

"Any time's fine", his mohawked host replied.  
"We can take our time in getting up and stuff, and leave whenever we want to."

Niki pondered one last time, glad that the dimness slightly hid his features.

"…Okay", he answered, after a moment.  
"I'd like to do that."

The shine in Gomora's face as his idea was accepted was radiant, even through the lack of light in the apartment.

"Just don't want you to get cabin fever", he joked, beginning to gently bounce upon the sofa's cushions.

Niki nodded.

"May I go to bed, now?...I'm kinda tired."

"Oh!...sure", Gomora was quick to reply, his happiness a bit taken aback by surprise.  
"Okay, uh, I'll just go over and get the sheets ready and – "

"I'll be sleeping here, again, Gomora."

Surprise was renewed upon Gomora's face as Niki indicated at the couch by rubbing its cushion with his hand.

"…Are you sure that you want to?", he asked Niki, a bit of disappointment evident within his voice.  
"I mean…my bed's more comfortable, and I wouldn't mind for you to…"

"It's alright", Niki assured him as he trailed off.  
"Your couch is comfortable, too…and I don't want to keep you from your own bed."

"…Niki, it's no trouble, at all…"

"I know. If it's okay, can I sleep here?"

The renewed request sent Gomora's face to falling – an overreaction, Niki thought; after all, it was only a transferal of sleeping places.  
Nevertheless, Gomora hid a sigh, and turned away, towards a pile of folded sheets that lay next to the couch.

"I'll just…I'll just ready it up for you, then?"

"That's okay", Niki said, and took the blankets from him.  
"…You look pretty tired yourself."

Gomora didn't object – even in his exhausted and dejected state, he now knew better than to disagree with the guest in his apartment.  
Though he didn't feel like it, he moved into the bathroom and undertook a quick shower to rid the sweat from his body, and brushed his teeth because he didn't know what better to do.  
When he exited the bathroom, stripped, he found Niki, having finished preparing the couch, lying down upon it. The dimness might've provided enough lack of light for him to fall asleep in, but Gomora found his eyes open and on him.

"…Comfortable?", Gomora asked Niki.

The peach-furred Experiment nodded.

"I've already been in the bathroom."

"…Cool."

"…Yeah…I'm going to sleep now, alright?"

"Sure…sleep well, okay?"

"Yeah."

Niki turned over on the couch and faced away from Gomora, who, again, hid a sigh, and completely expelled the lights, leaving his vision a blind alightment, focused on Niki as he lay there, unmoving.  
He spoke, whilst moving his lips but not making a single sound;  
"_Help me, Niki…whatever can I do to make you see me?_"

His head alow, he walked quietly into his room and jumped upon his bed. It had been made by Niki.  
In the darkness (which was no darker to him than daylight), he laid down upon the mattress, and, with a sigh, rested his head upon the pillow.  
It smelled of Niki.  
Tenderly, and glad that nobody could see him, Gomora pulled this pillow into his arms and held it against his face. He snuggled up with it, keeping his eyes closed so as to not reinforce the reality that it was just a pillow.  
He fell asleep after a while, tilled away from his duty of keeping his ears alert for the slightest sound coming from the living room.

* * *

A few hours later, in the midst of the night, Gomora arose because of an aching stomach. Realizing that it probably was the cause of him not eating very much throughout the day, he left his room in quiet quest of the kitchen, passing the still, sleeping form of Niki in the living room.  
In the kitchen, he searched the contents of the refrigerator with tired eyes until he settled on a curd sandwich in a plastic container. Though he could eat the plastic as well, Gomora downed only the sandwich whilst leaning against the fridge and followed the sandwich with a swig straight from a jug of juice.  
He returned to his bedroom afterwards, surveying Niki momentarily beforehand, and quickly fell back asleep…having been completely unaware that his once-messy kitchen had been cleaned from top to bottom, with the dishes washed and the refrigerator cleaned and organized. 

Niki turned over his sleep, his body still feeling very exhausted, and himself feeling slightly disappointed, in his dreams, that Gomora hadn't entered the kitchen whilst the two of them had been awake.

* * *

Mid-day sunshine streamed onto the streets of the commoncreature – a couple of districts down from the Adamantium Stay. The streets were filled-in here (in comparison to the 'safer', hollowed pits that tracked the roads within the upper-class areas), making them traversable (and not a possibility to suicide). Shops and small stores within this less-developed area had been open since early in the morning, selling products and groceries to families – a general off-day amongst the workforce ensured entire families being out on the streets, today. Vehicles were minimal in presence, and the few that could be seen tended to fly overhead, clear of the people who had decided to make the road a part of their walkway. 

Gomora had parked his cruiser in a local garage on the corner of two conjoining streets. He had led Niki down onto the street, where (both of them unused to the massive amount of sunlight which the city was receiving) they had shielded their eyes before moving on further. Gomora had entered into the depths of his closet again earlier for the occasion, and had emerged wearing a sleeveless t-shirt featuring the band Carnivorous Cacophony, and orange shorts (he had vocal about the supposion that neither of them would be particularly noticeable if they were in town). Niki had remained a bit more conservative when he had borrowed clothes from Gomora (on account that his own hadn't yet been washed): he wore a plain button-up vest and a pair of zippered shorts (in which, despite Gomora's assurances that they looked alright on him, he felt very consciously uncomfortable).

Gomora led the pair of them into the streets and turned into a random direction. The red Experiment had been exceptionally jubilant as of the morning (Niki figured that his mood might have something to do with his clean kitchen, but he didn't dare himself to guess), and walked in front of Niki with gusto on the sidewalk and across the street, constantly urging him to keep up as he darted ahead, enunciating on the different venues along the street.

"…And see this place, here?", he was saying, as he indicated at a small produce counter.  
"I bought from here once, and it was absolutely wonderful. I – do you want something? They got the most amazing paperines here!"

"No, thanks…breakfast was fine", Niki replied, bringing disappointment to the face of the marketer, whom had been listening to the approaching pair anxiously.

"…And over there?", Gomora went on, pointing.  
"That's a zazu place – wonderful noodles. That electronic place over there is where I buy my CDs. I could buy you something right now – and the ice cream place! We gotta go there – you just have to taste it!"

It was with feeling reminiscent of bemusement that Niki followed Gomora, actually accelerating his steps to keep up with his host. Niki doubted that Gomora always showed such fascination for a street upon which he had been, before…but he felt within himself the very same wonder for what he saw.  
True enough, he had seen it before, during yesterday's walk (not the same street, though), but his second glance wasn't very tarnished at all, as he took in the sights which had been kept from him for all of his life. To be allowed to walk freely, upon his second indulgence, was beyond refreshing or enlightening…it even made the air smell better. Knowing that he could move, talk, and breathe of his own accord engorged him with a silent, placative euphoria that overrode all other feelings, and moved him to follow Gomora without objection. Even when the larger Experiment fell back beside him, he didn't object.

"About that ice cream?", Gomora was saying, leaning close to him.  
"I know that you're not hungry, but you just have to try it – it'll blow you right away, I promise. It's right up there – you need to try it."

They stood afront a homely-looking shop in front of which the sidewalk was parked with occupied chairs and tables. The front counter displayed a plethora of ice cream in containers which rose and fell with each order that was taken. Busy waiters catered to customers both outside and inside (there were tables inside, as well), serving festive, chilly dishes upon silver platters as they hurried from place to place.  
Just as Niki was beginning to feel impressed with how this place was pandering to him, a furry waiter, wearing an apron, appeared at his and Gomora's side, four heads taller than both of them.

"Would sirs like to be seen to a table?", he asked, formally.

"Sirs would, very much!", Gomora answered for the both of them.

"Please, please", the waiter said, as he coerced them towards an outside table impaled by a shading umbrella.

Gomora jumped happily into spindly metal chair whilst Niki tried not to make a show of climbing into his (they were both very large seats). The waiter handed the both of them a paper menu ("Sirs, sirs") and hurried away briskly, giving them time to decide.

"Great service, huh?", Gomora commented, leaning upon the shining table.  
"Little places like this can't afford to be rude to their customers – they'd lose business."

Niki nodded. He enjoyed the presence of the umbrella, overhead – it was better than the sun blaring down upon his scalp (which wasn't exactly a bad change, though – the planet which they habited wasn't very famous for the quality of its controlled weather; it was odd enough that it rained in the past few days more than it had in the last two months, and to have it followed by a brazenly sunny day was nothing short of a needle in a haystack).

"Go on…see what you want", Gomora urged him, opening his own menu.

Niki opened the green, folded sheet delicately and scanned its descriptions, which were accompanied by black illustrations.

"The guarangberry cup with cream-syrup's pretty good", Gomora advised him, whilst his own nose remained buried in his copy of the menu.  
"Or the opi dish with green finnel filling. Or the sundae. Or…well, I really can't find anything unappealing…besides that monchu mocha mix; I had mocha…"

Niki had only eaten ice cream but few times in his life – a few times as a dessert back in the lab, and once with Mel, who had brought him a cupful one night for no apparent reason.  
Niki had enjoyed it, the few times when he had experienced ice cream – its light, frothy sweetness appealed to him, and he regretted not having chances to eat it more often. Sitting at an outside table with Gomora, with a free, open choice of ice cream-y concoctions was perhaps the most enlightening experience of their entire trip, as of so far…and, at the moment, Niki didn't feel like trying to dislike Gomora.

The past day was still fresh in his mind…but the ice cream would be even fresher, he thought. Perhaps, he thought, conly, it would be cheap and shallow to consider the ice cream as a pancreatic forgive-all to what had achieved in making him so upset the day before…but the air about Gomora seemed as integrous as ever before…and Niki believed that he had been able to tell, by Gomora's eyes, that he'd be sure to think twice before touching Niki again.  
Gomora's mood was credit to Niki, he was sure…and, at the moment, Niki didn't feel like being downhearted – not with the sun and the ice cream about. For once, he felt like being content…and even this was a relatively untouched sensation in his life.  
It didn't matter that Gomora was paying for him – for once, he didn't care about that notion.

"Hey!", Gomora exclaimed, breaking him from his thoughts.  
"Here come their best customers!"

Niki looked in the direction in which Gomora was indicating, and was quick to distinguish what he had been talking about – recognizable even from afar, there came the pair of Argo the Shorcan and Aries the Dragon up the street, hand-in-hand, and dressed in shorts for the weather, with the larger of the two waving to Gomora.

"Hello, over there!", his bass-like voice boomed over the sounds of the street, as he and his mate covered close to seven feet with each step.  
"Is there room for two more?"

"Hi, Gomora!", Aries likewise called, waving.  
"Hi, Gomora's friend!"

Niki had but enough time to sit up straight (and take note of the tiny visibility of a tattoo that appeared behind Argo's white tank-top and shirt) before the two giants had covered the distance between their two pairs and stood before them, throwing a cloak of shade over the two Experiments as effectively as the umbrella.

"A mountain in the ice cream parlor", Gomora remarked jokingly up at the silhouette of Argo.  
"You two in pursuit of ice cream?"

"Indeed", Argo replied, blinking his single eye.  
"Do you mind if we join you?"

"Feel free", Gomora replied, motioning towards the remaining chairs around the table.

Whilst Aries took to the seat next to Gomora, Argo settled himself carefully down into the chair closer to Nikita. The metallic device substituting his right eye momentarily flashed in the sunlight as he turned towards the smaller Experiment.

"Hello there, Nikita", he greeted him, deeply.  
"I hope that you're feeling better than the last time we saw eachother?"

"I am…thank you", Niki answered, giving a slight nod as he replied.

"You didn't have to throw up again, did you?", Aries asked over the Shorcan's massive shoulder.

Niki figured that he might've blushed in embarrassment otherwise, but his mood, it seemed, remained impervious to the vocal inquirings of the young Dragon, who was gently being pushed back down by Argo.

"I'm very glad to hear that", Argo went on, turning back to the peach-furred Experiment.  
"I was sure that you simply had too much to drink…I'm just glad that that notion seemed true; I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I had overlooked a more serious ailment…"

Aries appeared back upon Argo's shoulders, around which he flung his arms and grinned widely.

"But ya didn't!", he stated, and nuzzled the Shorca's thick, grayish-blue neck.  
"The best doctor in the universe doesn't miss anything!"

Niki blinked as Argo gave a small blush of humility. As the Shorcan tickled a giggling Aries back into his seat (and securing a broad arm across his shoulders to prevent him from rising back out of his seat, again), Niki now began making sense of some of the happenings of the night at the club – namely, Aries making a reference to Argo working and people 'shooting and killing themselves' and Argo being the only one to inspect him after he had nearly passed out; was Argo really a doctor?  
The question was answered as Argo turned back towards Niki, smiling.

"I'm a physician of the medical clinic outside of the main district", he informed the Experiment.  
"I'm sorry – I should've told you that before I started asking you questions and advising you at the disco."

"…Don't worry about it", Niki assured him, straightening himself in his seat.

"He's a life-saver, y'know that?", Aries inserted, his head this time appearing from behind Argo's barrel-of-a-chest.  
"Last week, at the hospital, they'd brought in a guy who'd been stabbed six times in the stomach, and Argo went right in there, and saved his life!"

The hint of a blush formed at Argo's cheeks again, and he turned towards Aries, grinning softly.

"…Not that you saw any of that, though", he told the Dragon, giving his shoulder a playful shake.  
"…And I believe it was only three wounds, you shameless exaggerator…"

Aries put his arms across Argo's chest and back, his hands sliding underneath his shirt as he smiled lovingly up at the additioned face of his mate.

"I'm just glad that I have the best, strongest, and nicest doctor in the universe", he comment, leaning onto Argo's chest.

The Shorcan's face melted into an expression loveful benevolence, and, a moment later, his other arm joined its twin around the smaller Dragon's.

"And I'm just glad to have one of the most flattering, cute, and beautiful guys in the universe, too", he replied, softly.

Aries gave a murring sound, leaning closer upon Argo until they were face-to-face, gazing into eachother's eyes with a kind of dreamy separation to everything else around them.  
Gomora, who had sitting quietly behind the combined figures of Aries and Argo's, poked his head into Niki view and grinned.

"Like I told ya – lovebirds", he chuckled, indicating at the embracing pair with his thumb.

The furry waiter re-appeared from the depths of the shop, heading for the table, but his brisk steps fell into sudden unalignment as he came upon the sight of the two larger-than-accustomed males cuddling so intimately.

"_Oh!_...s-sirs!", he stammered, as he jaunted up to the table, holding a pad of paper and a pen.  
"…Might you be ready to order?"

"Yes, I think so", Gomora replied, whilst giving a playful poke to Aries' backside to alert both him and Argo to the situation (they seemed to have drifted afar in eachother's gaze).  
"Uh, Niki, y'know what you want yet?"

Niki re-scanned the menu hurriedly, trying to decide upon which of the delicacies would appease him the most (they all sounded wonderful).

"I…uh…will…have…the…", he said slowly, trying to decide.  
"…the…pinyuan and kiwi dish…please."

"And I will have the…chocolate apirinin dish with the mint", Gomora added, as the waiter wrote down the orders hurriedly.  
"What about you guys?...hullo, you two…?"

"Oh-!...I'm sorry", Argo apologized, freeing his eyes from Aries' to look up.  
"I'll have what I always have…a chocolate rishcream shake, please…what do you want, honey?"

"Vanilla!", Aries demanded.

The waiter, glancing once more at the group of them, nodded and turned on his heel and hurried away.  
Gomora, Aries, and Argo all glanced between eachother before giggling, unanimously.

"He's not intimidated at all", Argo chuckled, as Aries snuggled under his arm and against his side.

"Like I said before, these little places can't afford to be rude to customers", Gomora elaborated, rubbing his forehead as he laughed through his nose.  
"Shoot, we oughta pull our shirts off and dance on the table – they'd probably allow that, too."

The three went on chuckling…and Niki, who sat back, watching the foree between friends…and partially wished that he were a part of it.  
Trying to detach himself from any negative feelings, he began looking through the numbers of people seated at the shaded tables around them…for they sat there, amongst themselves in either solitude or small groups, some talking amongst themselves and some not talking at all, some looking at the table which Niki sat at and its other amused occupiers; a few faces were interested, others were disgusted.  
There weren't many of them, but they had been disgusted ever since a minute after Argo and Aries had joined the table. These faces brought with them a shadow darker than the shade offered by the umbrellas, and a coldness that Niki knew of his past.

He reflected, momentarily, before turning back to the table, that he had, for most of his life, been present to two different emotional negativities which spanned the stereotypical stigmas which had always been made the center of his life – when he had been working as a prostitute, glances towards him, by his customers, had almost always displayed an almost egotistic, condemeaning smirk, both before and after the process, which seemed to speak negative volumes along the lines of "_Look at you – what a sad, hopeless little bitch_"; at the lab, sequel to his much-regretted 'coming out', the majority of glances and stares thrown at (along with the latterly-mentioned expression, minorly) depicted something close to "_You filthy, disgusting thing – don't you dare come close to me_".

The latter was the expression which he was receiving right now…and he felt glad that nobody else of his table had caught wind of it.

"_Hellooo_…_Nikitaaa_…Gomora's friennnd…"

The small Experiment perked up. Aries the Dragon was looking at him.

"Wha-?...I'm sorry; what?", Niki asked, straightening in his chair as he blinked.

Aries grinned, as he leaned across Argo's chest.

"Nikita, are you and Gomora together?", he asked, slyly, tilting his head to one side.  
"Gomora says you aren't, but I think he's lying…are you?"

Nikita sat there, not knowing what to make of such a direct question.  
The sheer, uncommon brazenness of this inquisition left Niki to consider whether the Dragon was entirely mentally functional…but he was more privy to give thought to the supposed answer of Gomora in respect to the same question that Aries had presented him with – Gomora, audibly admitting that there was nothing between the two of them?

Niki realized that he might've been struck harder if Gomora had answered in any other way than what he already (supposedly) had…but nonetheless – Gomora denying a relationship between the two of them (despite that the answer was entirely truthful), after what he spoken to Niki just the night before….it just didn't seem to fit. It seemed as if Gomora were denying himself something – and, knowing his host, even to such a limited extent, Niki figured that Gomora denying something between them, without so much as a hint of hope…didn't seem quite right, for some reason.

"…_And why the Hell am I worrying about Gomora, again?_"

Niki looked up and across the table at Gomora, who was sitting somewhat slumped-over, his eyes directed somewhere upon the table's surface, upon which he played with his fingers.  
Niki swallowed heavily.  
Argo, from his headset, many feet above both of the Experiments, looked from one to the other and wrinkled his brow.

"…C'mon, now, Aries…", he coerced, placing a hand upon his mate's shoulder.  
"That's not really a question to – "

"No, we're not."

Niki's eyes were strangely aligned as he answered Aries' initial question, as he too stared at the table.

"…We're not together. I just live with Gomora…he's been kind enough to allow me to do so."

Gomora had looked up as Niki said so – his expression was one of intricate surprise, bare of any identifiable emotional indication; he just appeared very surprised.  
Aries huffed, dissatisfied, and sat back in his seat.

"…Well, if you ask me, you two should be together", he commented, after a while.  
"Gomora goes to the club with me and Argo every weekend, but he never gets together with anybody. Why's that?"

Gomora looked as though he might've wanted to say something in return, but Argo spoke first;  
"Oh, our ice cream comes!"

It was true: approaching their table were three furry waiters who carried between themselves the four dishes of ordered ice cream (Argo's and Aries' dishes were both quite large, in comparison to Niki's and Gomora's; their specie-al differences in size and statue must've been taken into consideration).

"Here you are, sirs", the original waiter commented as the trays were distributed among the four individuals.  
"If it will be nothing more, here is the bill…"

He deposited the slip of paper onto the table. Argo reached into the back of his pants for his wallet, but Gomora, seemingly anxious to take some action of any kind, was first to do so.

"Hold up there, big guy", he said insisted, holding up a hand as he retrieved his own wallet.  
"I got this…all of us."

Argo paused, frowning.

"Oh, Gomora, do let me pay for myself and – "

"I forbid it", the crimson Experiment persisted, pulling a silver credit card from his wallet.  
"Besides, I just got my paycheck, and I have no other idea what to do with it."

Argo continued to frown, but only for a moment longer – then he sighed, settled back, and forced a smile.

"Okay…but the next round of drinks at the club is on me."

Gomora handed his plastic card to the waiter, who took it eagerly and swiped it through the portable reader, which he had kept beneath his smock.

"Thank you, thank you, sirs", the waiter was quick to gush, as the bill was electronically paid-up.

"Don't mention it", Gomora replied grudgily, retrieving his now-warm card.

As the waiter left (after giving a small bow), spoons were lifted around the table, and submerged into the frosty depths of the icy treats.  
Gomora brought his first spoonful to his lips and into his mouth. He made a satisfied, gullateral sound, and dipped his spoon back into his dish.

"…Forgot how good this stuff is, really", he said, before he filled his mouth again.  
"…Totally unfair, though, that y'two get more than us at the same price."

"Oh, you know what they, Gomora…", Argo chuckled, sucking at his shake.  
"…Too much of a good thing, you know?"

"Silly – I can't get enough of this", Aries replied, between spoonfuls.

Niki remained less audible about the deliciousness of his ice cream…which was, indeed, much better than he had expected it to be: something about the lightness of the ice cream made it easily the best which he had ever tasted…it was good enough to forgive the stares from a while ago.

"Good stuff, isn't it, Nikita?", Argo asked him over his own shake.

Niki nodded, low over his dish, to keep from spilling over himself.

"Yeah…it's really good."

"Toldya", Gomora said, across the table.

Niki looked up, but his host had already turned back to his own food…or he might not even have looked up at all.  
He focused upon his ice cream, again, instead of upon Gomora or anybody around him.  
They went on eating (and drinking, in Argo's case), going about conversation (during which Niki answered if he were asked something, but listening more often then not). Argo appeared to be the main supplier of dialogue – he seemed to do the most of the discussing, sometimes engaging with Gomora and contending with Aries' remarks as they came, and making attempts to open Niki's mouth other than to intake his ice cream (to talk).

It slowly figured to Niki that Argo must be used to speaking to people, a lot…something about his trained ability to transition from one topic to another, not unlike a talk-show host, decreed this.  
Niki thought it hard, though, to believe that Argo had a prior career in entertainment, and neither did he see such an ability, natural or domesticated, very connected much to being a doctor. He wondered…

He likewise wonder about Aries, the very unconventional Dragon; any and all stories that he had heard about Dragons being massive, dominating individuals were laid to waste by this somewhat-diminutive, talkative reptile, whose eyes remained distinctly alight, even in the sunlight, and who seemed to absolutely hang onto his mountain-of-a-mate, not even looking but an entire head's turn away from him.  
It didn't take Niki long, after some speculation, to determine that there was, indeed, a subnormal mental quality about him…given, that he was of an adequate age (although Niki didn't think that Dragon children were of this size); his presentation was very immature, even if it didn't include him being rude or of infantile mindset – his compulsiveness and lack of distance which he held between himself and Argo simply weren't traits to be found on someone of a mature mind…and this further left Niki to wonder.

He raised his eyes back to Gomora, who was listening to something that Argo was saying.  
…Gomora certainly didn't seem to find either of his two friends unconventional, or at least he didn't let on to it – he just sat there, listening attentively, whilst finishing his ice cream. Argo, who had long since finished his shake, had therefore a lot to say, was enunciating upon some point or another, and Aries, regardless of whether or not he was listening, had snuggled as close as he could against Argo, and now seemed to basking in the shade as he leaned upon the Shorcan, his eyes closed and his breathing quite relaxed.

Niki, despite his open attitude, couldn't help but think to himself;  
"_What an odd pair_…"

"What do you think, Niki?"

Niki blinked. Argo was looking at him – the sun passing over the border of the umbrella was once again shining off of his retinal attachment.  
Niki figured that he might wonder about that part of Argo further when he had the chance.

"…Wha-?...I'm sorry, Argo…I wasn't…"

Argo grinned softly.

"I was talking about health care", he reiterated.  
"I know – it must get very tedious, very quickly when I talk about politics, doesn't it?"

"Uh…I agree", Niki replied, before correcting himself, hurriedly;  
"About the health care, I mean!...I'm all for health care. Really…"

The Shorcan's grin widened, still ever so softly.

"Indeed…", he replied, slowly.

"I still think that they should get together…", the sleepy voice of Aries came from Argo's shoulder.  
"…Nikita and Gomora, I mean…"

A beeping noise sounded before anybody could react to Aries' statement, and Gomora begin groping through his pockets, hurriedly.

"Sorry…", he apologized, looking anxious.  
"My work…y'know…my pager…"

Jumping out of his chair, Gomora unearthed his noisy appliance and hurried out of bounds of the ice café.  
Niki watched him as he moved farther away, and Argo turned to Aries, whose eyes had been opened by the noise.

"He's becoming more like me", the Shorca sighed.  
"I'll tell you…and you, too, Niki…if your occupation requires you to carry a pager, you lose so much of your life."

Niki thought about delivering a sarcastic thought towards Argo about losing a part of your life…but decided otherwise; after all, Argo couldn't know about him…and why spoil his stomach, full of the tasty ice cream, with a negative thought?  
Although he did wonder what was so important, regarding Gomora's work, that he was pulled away from the table.

* * *

Gomora turned the corner around the side of the building and walked into the shadow of an overhead veranda, detached largely from the people upon the street. Clicking his beeper off, he pulled a cellular phone from his pocket and clicked a predestined button. He raised it to his large, pierced ear…which, along with the other, was laid back, warily. 

"_Yes?_", a voice on the receiving line asked.

"It's Gomora", the Experiment answered, curtly.  
"What do you want?"

"_There's been a change of schedule_", the voice said.  
"_LeFey invites you to dinner. Be at the factory at sundown, and we'll transport you to the destination_."

"…I can't do that…I've got plans, already."

"_Plans more important than meeting with your benefactor?_"

"Tell LeFey that I can't come."

"_Oh, I'm not going to do that_."

"What, are you afraid?"

"_You're the one who'll need to be afraid, freak_."

"Pussy."

"_Alright – I will tell LeFey that his favorite pet had alternate plans, grand enough to disrupt an important meeting and forego the dinner which is being bought for him_."

"Yeah, you get bought dinner often, don't you?"

"_Will you be there?_"

"Only to give you a lesson in quissanart."

"_Hmm. Indeed. Be there at sundown_."

"Stop trying to sound like someone important, like LeFey's personal dick-slicker."

"_The next time you receive a call of a confidential nature, I'd suggest that you take place under a more covert residence – somebody might be listening to you, up on the balcony_."

Gomora looked towards the street as his cellular connection was severed…just in time to see the tail-end of a down-to-ground cruiser pulling out-of-sight around the building.  
Grimacing, and hating the thought of needing to spend another night 'at work' (it only brought about complications, by now), he replaced his electronics back to his pants, he made way back towards the ice café…stopping only for a few moments to regard the status of the veranda, overhead. It was empty…

"_At least for now_", the Experiment thought to himself.

* * *

(A_/N: I hope you all enjoyed that…amongst trying to supply more Niki/Gomy time, I wanted to give more space to introducing Argo and Aries, who will continue to have parts to play in this story; I hope I handled them presentably…and kept everything in adequate detail...  
__Also, sorry for the delay; I'll try and post the next chapter on-schedule.  
Stay safe until then!_) 


	22. Reflection?

(_A/N: welcome, readers, to a flashback-chapter of Niki's POV. Despite some confusion on my own behalf regarding his Experiment's number in prior chapters, the number by which he is referred to in here is his official number. Please read on_…)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 22

* * *

A radio that was mandatorily installed in the wall inside of each dormitory in the lab was playing soft music over a gently-lit dorm, stationed somewhere near to the end of the corridor. The electronic clock that was installed beside it showed five minutes before midnight. Experiment 620's stomach was growling as he lay on his bed.  
It had been doing so for a fine portion of the evening, but he had remained inside of his room, as he always did, when he knew that there were other Experiments up and about. He might've considered himself paranoid…but he reminded himself that he had no idea how many Experiments remembered the 'incident' of the cafeteria from only a month before.  
He wished (at many moments, among this one) that he had never dared to act upon an impulse as he had done, then – if Experiment 487 had appeared ugly a month ago as he did now, 620 figured that never would've even approached the idea of doing what he had done…and he might not even be hungry, now. 

He sighed, sadly, and watched his hands, folded upon his stomach, rise dismally, as they refused to rise high enough to pass above his sternum when he breathed… His skinny chest, nonexistent belly, tender neck, thin arms, and bony wrists, all of which were often acause to his many discontents; ever so often, 620 would ask the nonexistent why he wasn't created with a stronger build, a second or third set of arms, or the ability to spit acid…perhaps then, he figured, he wouldn't be so afraid of venturing outside of his dormitory.  
His stomach trembled beneath his hands, reminding him that he hadn't had anything to eat at all, today.  
The clock showed four minutes to midnight. 620 pondered heavily about whether or not the majority of the Experiments had already gone into their own dorms…for that was the only time that he dared leave his own room, even if it were just to use the bathroom or to go to the soda machine.

Experiment 620 sat up slowly, and turned to dangle his legs over the side of his small cot/bed. He sighed, tiredly, and adjusted the belt of his pants (yet another feature of him at which fun was poked at) before jumping to the floor, which, like the rest of the room's walls, was dark and metallic.  
620 took a moment to observe his room, as he had done many times before, without anything else to do: a ceramic desk stood in the corner closest to the door, upon which rested a pop-shaped lamp, and the fluorescent lights overhead illuminated the locker (which contained his few pants and some meaningless plastic toys which all Experiments were entitled to), which stood beside a poster on the wall, displaying a photograph of the Acquilan systems in perfect alignment to their sun (it covered up a poster which condemned the Galactic Alliance – it had hung there even before 620 had moved in).

He tended to look at his room a lot, nowadays, trying to be thankful about the fact that he had, at least, a hideaway to which only he knew the access code (although that didn't stop occasional group of Experiments, passing by, to hammer on his door from time to time, calling "_Hey, you in there, fag?_"). It was, however, of little comfort when he would think about what an area of freedom which he could possess if he but dared himself to go through the lab, without fear…for it was just a lab (a really big, complex lab), but, after nearly an entire month of near-isolation, it seemed like an entire galaxy to Experiment 620…a galaxy that he was unwelcome to.

620 unlocked his door by way of the control panel next to it. The panel of which the door was composed of slid up with a low scratching noise, and halted atop of the frame as the small Experiment stepped over the threshold, and into the darkened corridors of the laboratory.  
The lights which ran like a fluorescent pipeline overhead had been deactivated, leaving a single, lighted panel in a corner's wall to serve as a nightlight.  
Breathing quietly, and with his hands in his pockets, 620 began to make his slowly-trodden way down the hallway, in the direction of the light-panel; he was bound for the cafeteria, which, he hoped, had been left unlocked.

Down the corridor he walked, passing door after sealed door of Experiment dormitories, all the whilst hoping that each of them would remain closed. His footsteps were barely audible _pat-pat_s on the metallic floor, honed with a practice secretness that was only entitled to those few who truly wished to remain unheard. Alas such, thought 620, he had learned such silence because of the corridors themselves, which were long and barren – even from opposing ends, the faintest sound, generated at one end, could clearly be heard at the other; needless to say, if he wished to remain undetected whilst outside of his room, at any time, he would have to remain silent.

It was with such silence that 620 found his way down and around the first corridor, across the next one, and down another to reach the cafeteria: a giant, gymnasium-sized mess-hall it was, filled with long tables, and housing large trash-bins next to an electronic serving-counter. All of this was sealed off by large, lowered gate comprised of metals bars beneath a plastic canvas, but it was towards the Jumba-sized door, next to the gate, that 620 headed and found unlocked and entered through.

The empty darkness of the massive room stretched in front of 620, not doing much to raise his spirit as he stuck close to the wall and slinked towards the serving-counter, whilst seemingly trying to remain undetected by the darkness itself  
Dragging himself atop the serving-counter to cross it, 620 managed his way into the kitchen; whilst the window of the counter only gave view to the large, robotic serving machines at which the Experiments lined up to receive their breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, the kitchen was actually somewhat of a larger room, and held about half a dozen jumbo-sized ovens and five huge refrigerators, which were regularly stocked with rejected or 'borrowed' Alliance-distributed food, which was 'delivered' in either large cardboard boxes or plastic bags.

620 didn't know how to operate the ovens, but he wasn't planning on starting up the noisy machines for his meal. It wouldn't matter, he thought as he opened one of the refrigerators which the touch of a control pad, that there'd be one uncooked meal missing – he wasn't, after all, ever present to any other meal.  
He might've eaten more, he also thought, for he probably didn't enough food altogether to fully sustain himself…but the food itself that Jumba supplied his Experiments was hardly something to crave for (often, the Experiments would get halfways through staging an uproar on account of the quality of the food that Jumba would pirate for them – 620 himself had never complained, though; he didn't like the food, but realized that, in trying to feed a growing labful of voracious Experiments, Jumba was trying hard and taking many risks to keep them all accommodated as best as he could).

Reaching into the depths of an icy cardboard box, 620 unearthed a black, plastic-covered dish which he lifted up and out of the icy refrigerator before closing the large door with another click of the control panel. Figuring that this dark place was among the best for him to remain unheard and undetected, 620 sat down on the floor and opened his tray. It was with a complete lack of gusto that he began to chew at and swallow the partially-frozen stewed steak, nakku paste, and corn-shaped vegetables (eating it cold, he noted, didn't make it taste any better than it would've, anyway).

Despite eating at a slow pace, the portions were quickly ingested, but 620 continued to sit in the quiet darkness of the cafeteria, staring, but not looking at anything in particular. In his mind, he was reviewing ideas that he felt as though he had thought of thousands of times before (for there wasn't much that he could do in his dormitory other than think).  
What other Experiment, he thought, was to be found sitting alone in the dark of the kitchen, after having eaten his only meal of the day without even having it cooked?  
620 figured (modestly, he would've thought, if he weren't reticent) that he wasn't the only individual in the lab with problems (for there was no wider menagerie of individuals and situations than Jumba's laboratory), and that his life, for all he knew, was a run-of-the-mill experience for other Experiments whom he didn't know…but why did he have to sit here? There had always been bullying Experiments and other Experiments that suffered from it…but whether or not they resolved their problems by dealing with it on their own or by taking their problem to Jumba was their own choice…as was the definite knowledge that, if asked to do so, Jumba would intervene to make their existences easier.

…Why did it have to be different for 620?

620 had become aware, quickly, that Jumba felt that there was something wrong with his liking of 487. 620 had quickly ceased, even before his actual interaction with his ex-crush, confessing such feelings to Jumba, even though he didn't understand why it seemed to make the doctor uncomfortable, or at least very avoidant of the subject.  
This hurt 620, right from the start, for the puberty-like changes that went about with his body at the same time, he was receiving the impression that he couldn't or shouldn't be as open with his creator as he would've wanted to be…for who wouldn't appreciate some kind of support during a very confusing part of their life?

When 487 had hit him, 620 hadn't told Jumba, because he was both afraid and ashamed for what Jumba might have to say to him about it. He did, however, expect some kind of reaction from him – any kind of happening between Experiments in the lab always found his way back to the doctor, who was known for his tendency to take action when one of his creations was being bullied.

Not so, it appeared – 620 expected something to happen for days, but no sign of reprimand to 487 or word from Jumba reached him. 620 had already begun to make his presence slim around most other Experiments, but his social treatment had become his dread…for he didn't understand the unusualness or the cruelty that was offered to him; the teasings and the catcalls from the noted Experiment-bullies was one thing, but the shifty glances, hushed whispers, and unfound staring of the other Experiments were what managed to bore inside of him, and make him feel lonely: two female Experiments in the cafeteria had retired their wait in the serving-line after 620 had lined up behind them, throwing him disgusted looks – during a mandatory gym-meet for the Experiments, when it was declared in a game of dodge-ball that it would be males against females, the male Experiments which 620 lined up next to looked at him as though he had done something wrong – some unknown Experiment had slid a note under his door one night, which read "God can help", and included the address to a religious website which specialized in 'de-homosexualizing' individuals.

…There certainly was no credible physical abuse going on with these acts, 620 admitted, but when something was so very realistically hurting, wouldn't it be considered some kind of abuse?

620 had sat in the dark, many times, wondering what part of him (a part that he was obviously not privy to) was so addicted to receiving punishment from Experiments whom he had lived amongst for the several months that had constituted his lifespan. Perhaps, he considered, it was something that he had been created with – after all, other Experiments had the ability to go so far as to radically alter the emotions of other Experiments…was 620 simply capable of channeling peoples' aggressions?  
Maybe there was something wrong with him, as Jumba had said, when he had given him the pills that had seen an advancement in his bodily functions – 620 knew, certainly, that there was something wrong with him: no other 600-model of Experiment was as weak and seemingly powerless as he was; matterless that Jumba nor anybody had told him about any such thing – he appeared wrong from his first conception.

…Is that why he was so obviously different from other Experiments?  
Was it really that awful to like another guy?

620 raised himself soundlessly from the floor and picked up his tray. Depositing it in the black, plastic-laden container, and with his stomach barely full of the cold food, 620 cleared the serving-counter again and headed towards the door leading out of the cafeteria.  
He stopped in front of it, looking up at its frame – large enough to only properly besuit Jumba.  
620 had barely left his dormitory in waking hours for almost a month, and not a single Experiment in the lab could attest to having seen more than a glimpse of him over that same stretch of time. Experiments in the lab doubtlessly quipped about him while he wasn't there and when conversation was dull, and the occasional abuse directed at his door occurred frequently enough to be noticed.

…So why didn't Jumba do anything?

That was the question which had daunted, haunted, and repeatedly downed 620 0ver the passing month – why wasn't Jumba doing anything?...or even speaking to him?  
Jumba was busy, for sure – he was always busy…but he had never been too busy for when one of his Experiments needed him.  
620 needed him, the little Experiment had to admit, whether he wanted to or not…why wasn't Jumba doing anything?

620, his head held low, passed through the door and closed it behind himself. In the distance, he could hear music playing and Experiments laughing – a few of them had obviously had the idea to start a party after Jumba had gone to bed; this wasn't an infrequent happening, and a general time for Experiments to relax and leisure in the unchaperoned atmosphere. 620 figured that, if he kept his head low, he could enter the party and remain largely unnoticed…but, he figured, there was no need to bother – why indulge when nobody wanted him there, anyway?  
Slowly, 620 made his way back towards his dormitory at the end of the long hallway, his hands having returned to his pockets, and his shoulders shivering slightly in the coldness of all of the spaces other than the party.

The sound of the music ultimately died down as 620 found his way back into his familiar hallway with the lighted wall-panel, and managed to re-enter his dormitory without being seen. As the door closed behind him, he checked the clock – he had been gone, almost exactly, for an hour.  
Slowly circling his scarcely-filled room, he considered going to bed…but there seemed nothing furtherly depressing in the universe than to allow his thoughts to coerce him into dark sleep. There was little to do otherwise, though – all of the books were kept in the library (which was locked and without lucky exits during nighttimes), and 620 didn't have a computer in dorm to occupy him, either. All of the plastic amusements in his locker had long since lost their appeal to him. There really was nothing to do in the room.

…Sans one thing…

Walking over to his desk, his ears slightly erect because of this idea, 620 opened one of its drawers and retrieved from it a block of yellow stationary and a pen.  
He had a seat at the desk, remembering hearing (from an anti-aggression program that all Experiments had been required to attend, so no rogue Experiment would end up using his abilities to blow up the lab) of an idea that it was a good psychological vent to express your emotions through writing, or poetry.  
620 had never given much thought to writing, and it certainly wasn't his first choice as a form of entertainment…but, at the moment, it seemed like an appealing idea…and, besides, there was nothing better to do.  
Hoping to feel the relief of ventilation quickly, 620 began an attempt to convert his emotion to paper, taking his example from poems which he had read, by chance, or glanced at.  
With his pen set to the paper, he began to write, in the symbol-based Turian alphabet.

"_Nobody seems to love me, nobody seems to care; I'm alone and nobody_…"

620 crumpled up the piece of paper which he had written on and threw it away; it had taken him almost two minutes to slowly write the first phrases out, and he didn't like it enough to keep. He began anew…

"_If only they could see the way I do_…"

The Experiment crushed this attempt in his hand, too, and made another attempt.

"_I want to love like I want to be loved for it; if people don't like it, they can_…"

He disposed of this attempt, too.

"_Darkness is what I have to know_…"

Another crumpled sheet of paper flew over his shoulder.

"_There's nothing worse than not being loved; I'd give my life for a little_…"

Experiment 620 groaned and gripped his head, after what felt like his trillionth attempt – he had very little skill at writing, for nothing that he came up with seemed to be of any quality…at least, when he was finding it very difficult to convey what he wanted to say onto his paper.  
He whined another groan and considered slamming himself down onto his bed to go to sleep…but he paused in this thought, staring anew at one of the few remaining sheets of paper in front of him.

He realized that among his many fears and anxieties was speaking, in most respects – telling Jumba about his crush on Experiment 487, to date, had been his most daring vocal outing; he wanted to say so much more though – he wanted to enunciate so much to Jumba, and plead his emotion to his creator, even when his recent lifetime had compelled him against moving to such action. It was the most basic and only, it seemed, that he could reach his creator and tell him and ask him so many things…  
…Perhaps, he figured, he could express himself to Jumba in a letter?

…He realized just how romantic and outdated the idea was…but how else? – he felt that he really had no other choice, if he ever wanted to be heard; whatever was keeping Jumba from his in-need Experiment, it was the same cause that made it feel so difficult for 620 to approach him…one-way communication, at the time, seemed the only way to grip his attention.  
Placing a steadying hand upon the paper, and setting his pen against yellow lines which guided his sentences, 620 spent the better part of the night writing a slowly-composed message to Jumba, writing with his eyes determined as he finally succeeded in setting his very thoughts to the paper, beginning with "_Dear Jumba_", and ending with a determination to, on the following night, leave it Jumba to find…for better, or for worse.

* * *

(_A/N: I hope that was satisfactory. I realize that it's a bit short, compared to other chapters…but, as a flashback-chapter, I allow myself a bit of succinctness.  
__Until he next chappie, see y'all!_) 


	23. Dark Eyes

(_A/N: welcome, readers, to possibly the last chapter of_ Elisir _uploaded during the summer vacation of 2006…not that the occurrence makes this chapter any better or worse than the others, so please read on_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 23

* * *

It was with some unease that Gomora stepped through the tall, glass doors of a ritz restaurant, in one of the most extensive districts in this quadrant of the planet.  
It wasn't as much of as a fear of knowing, even before he entered, that he wasn't going to fit in with the restaurant or the customers that it was entertaining (garbed in his usual punky attire, Gomora was well aware of some of the stares of disdain that he was receiving from both the staff and the other customers as he made his entry – this place, after all, most certainly didn't serve any kind of nakku)…but rather the very realization that he had been invited to such a grand place, for when LeFey celebrated (so it seemed to be, at the moment), it usually meant something as equally grand and important.  
Gomora reminisced that this feeling had taken hold of him as soon as the chauffer of the cruiser in which he had escorted had pulled up to this majestic place, but quickly found himself back in the present and face-to-chest with a tall, skinny, ratty-looking waiter with a scrunched, furry face, and dressed in a high-quality uniform.

"I'm sorry…sir", the employee sniffed through his nose, in a tone most disdainful as he eyed Gomora's stature, hair, and clothes.  
"If you have no reservation, then you must be in the wrong place."

The Experiment figured that he might be inclined to agree with the snooty employee, just so that he could leave the place, but any hope of doing so disappeared as a suit-wearing Perentil appeared at the waiter's shoulder.

"This one's with our party", he said, curtly, and appeared to part the waiter with that comment alone, before glancing down to Gomora.  
"Come with me."

Disappointed thoroughly, Gomora obliged and brought his steps behind the unnamed Perentil's, keeping close to him amidst the constant bustle in which they were submerged.  
The restaurant – having received intergalactic commendation a few years ago, on account of its sheer grandeur – was a massive, multi-floored apparel of gold, silver, and linen and silk: it had the floorspace of almost three ballrooms, inside of which were arranged at least three hundred individual tables, between which the waiters bustled like insects in a maze. A towering ornamental waterfall fell nearly two hundred feet from the ceiling into a rocky, absorbent basin (which was laced liberally with Audnox Precipitate, to keep from drowning out conversations). The walls surrounding this already-fantastic display were likewise dotted with balconies which hosted at least three tables, each; these balconies were interconnected to eachother and from level-to-level by arching, silver bridges which spanned over the floor, many feet beneath them.

Above the audibilities of wealthy guests speaking, there was heard serene, instrumental music, played by a small orchestra situated inside of the waterfall.

It was in an elevator that Gomora and the Perentil were raised almost to the top level of the restaurant, to a balcony which held only two tables – one housing an elderly Remyian couple, clothed in jewels, and another surrounded by half-a-dozen Perentils wearing suits and appearing vigilant. Sitting solitarily at this table was LeFey, with his back against the light, clothed in a smooth, scaly-looking suit, with his hair fastened behind his head with an ornamental chopstick.  
As he noticed the Experiment approaching, he grinned and stood up from his chair.

"My Gomora!", he greeted, one of his hands extended above the table.  
"Greetings! I'm so glad that you could finally join me."

"…Am I late?", Gomora asked, as he pulled back at the chair at the opposite end of the circular table to have a seat, reviving his masque to hide the feeling of dread that accompanied the presence of his employer.

"I took the liberty of ordering a drink and a meal for you", the Perentil informed him, his yellow teeth very apparent in the glow of the balcony's lamp.  
"Nothing too heavy, though – after all, this is a night for dignified celebration, and not gluttony.

Despite this limited presence of light at the table, Gomora still wondered how LeFey was surviving without complaint in the overall brightness of the restaurant.  
A moment's later glance, however, informed him that the Perentil was wearing a set of two-way dark contacts lenses in his eyes; the effect of these, besides working like sunshades, gave LeFey the appearance of having entirely colorless pupils and irises.  
Trying hard not to stare (whilst wondering if he'd even be allowed to do so), Gomora could only wonder for a moment, naively, what celebration his boss could be talking about before LeFey pushed a newspaper before him.

"Read the second headline", the Perentil advised.

Gomora did, and silently read to himself;  
"'_CEO & Owner of Huaxuan & Co. found Assassinated_'"

"…Yeah", he said, after a moment of silence, unclimatically, after reading about the aftermath of his previous night's work.  
"…It's done."

"Read further", LeFey insisted.

Gomora's eyes traced over the summary of the finding of Huaxuan's body and its investigation, until he came to;  
"…_police found traces to the killer's presumed entry into the victim's suite, but are at a loss to identify the assassin further than anybody who can fit through a 0.5x0.5-metre entryway, cut through plexiglas_."

The broad mention didn't startle Gomora in the least, but LeFey urged him on further.

"Read the last paragraph", he coaxed, the grin on his lips having spread delicately.  
"You'll find the reason to celebrate."

Wearily, Gomora's eyes moved to the bottom of the story's extent, where he proceeded to finish reading;  
"_Whether or not the occurrence in related to the death of the company's name-bearing inherited owner and CEO, all recent business proceedings have been withdrawn from the mourning company's plan of action, it is reported, to allow for revision and thoroughness that, a company official has claimed, Bax Huaxuan would've insisted on_."

Gomora read this, and as he looked up, LeFey's expression suggested that his small, exuberant smile was a dam attempting to hold back a burstful, victorious guffaw.

"The vice president of _Huaxuan & Co_. called me, the first thing this morning", he reported, amusement ashine in his darkened eyes.  
"He told me that he was having the handling deal with _Galaxy Defense_ canceled, and that he was informing me that business would be coming back to us. I'm positive that he even considered to apologize personally…but I won't hold his lack of doing so against him. A smart character, isn't he? – his employer leaves the dimension, and a minute later, he's making business decisions. I love it."

A few dozen feet below Gomora and LeFey's balcony, the orchestra began a tender, melodic tune, in sync with the striking of two hours before midnight.  
LeFey was once more displaying his repressed grin at Gomora, who was doing his best to receive and deflect it (without making the latter very obvious).

"Very good work, Gomora", the Perentil was complimenting him, whilst resting his fingertips together.  
"Nobody can say anything accountable, as usual, thanks to you. Anybody else might've left something to be identified or traced by…or would've otherwise fucked it up. But not you…I knew that I could count on you."

Gomora was glad that the restaurant was home to such aestheticy – he could excuse himself to glance away from the contacted eyes of LeFey, whose gaze lay upon him like an unmoving shadow. Daunted, and still trying to figure out the reason for his invitation to dinner with his employer, Gomora desperately hoped that whatever food LeFey had ordered would be arriving, soon.  
He likewise hoped that the Perentil would stop applauding him for the job he had done, for LeFey's applause was far from uplifting – it felt almost as though he were driving in an accusation.

"…You're welcome, LeFey", was all that Gomora accounted to reply, eventually.

The Perentil nodded, and mercifully directed his gaze at the couple which sat quietly at the next table, and Gomora was grateful for the reprieve – the six other (presumably) armed Perentils standing about the table didn't unnerve him as much as the unnatural eyes and yellowed teeth of the character who sat across from him.

"…So…", he managed, after an awkward while of trying to pass time by observing the restaurant.  
"…Did you bring me here to buy me dinner in return?...because the paycheck really was generous enough, LeFey - it really was…"

LeFey ignored Gomora's question for a few moments, as a waiter approached their table, carrying an iced bottle of a pink wine in a silver basin. The employee set the vase of ice upon the table's end and filled the glasses of both the Perentil and the Experiment before bowing away.

"Don't worry", LeFey said to the Experiment, sniffing his glass before taking a sip from it.  
"Minimal alcohol content – I'd worry about you driving, but I know for a fact that you can handle it."

Gomora was slightly less graceful in dealing with his drink – he drained it in one swallow, and had to admit that the wine tasted quite watery.

"…It's good", he insisted, shortly, setting his glass back down.  
"LeFey, why'd you invite me?"

"Other than showing my gratitude to my friend?"

"Yes."

"Touché, Gomora."

The Perentil took another miniscule sip from his glass, and, with a single hand-gesture, motioned for the other Perentils to move away from the table. As they fanned out across the balcony, LeFey's gaze returned to Gomora…and his expression was one which the Experiment had not yet seen him don: meticulous, it was (as it was almost always), but containing another element which Gomora couldn't identify, for the simple reason that it had always seemed to be entirely nonexistent in LeFey's range of features.  
Was it uneasiness?...unfaked anxiety?

"You're right – I can't fool you", the Perntil began, resting his elbows on the table.  
"To get right to the point, I'm going to be leaving town for a while."

"…You are?", Gomora asked, trying hard not to show his surprise, which had been upped by LeFey's words – LeFey, leaving town? – LeFey had never strayed away from his place of business for as long as Gomora had known him.

"Indeed, I am", LeFey assured him.  
"Something of importance has come up, and I need to personally be on-hand with some associates of mine. I'm leaving tonight, and will be gone for about a week. I'm leaving orders for _Permantium_ to continue running as it is, and I also have some jobs for you."

"…Jobs?", Gomora replied, his tone made oddly high-pitched at the consumption of this new information – not just that LeFey expected him to do something (which was expected), but rather that he'd be gone for a week; such an occurrence, it seemed to him, happened only once in a lifetime.  
"…As in…_job_, jobs?"

LeFey nodded, the macabreness of the mention seemingly not occurring to or affecting him, as he still appeared to have his own discomfort to deal with, whatever it was.

"Your job – three former clients of mine, of my previous business ventures, think that just because _Permantium_'s hitting off, they can neglect deals of co-existence which we came to, a few years back. I've given them enough reminders over this month and last – I need you to show the next-in-charge of their businesses what happens when you don't own up to a Perentilian deal."

"…Kinda like the last job?"

"Exactly like the last job – cut off a limb of the body, give it another chance, and it'll get right back to doing what you want it to…true, that's a long-winded philosophy, and a bit too literal, if you ask me, but I think that whoever's next-in-line to run that ol' casino, the whore-house, and the ice-dealership will possess some respect that my ex-partners seem to have lost."

LeFey didn't have to say anymore, Gomora thought to himself – what use was there in his exertion when Gomora had just about degreely perfected his moves of assassination?  
What interested and intrigued him more, among his boss's sudden showing of negative emotion, was LeFey's announcing that he would be leaving…and for an entire week, no less.  
Intricate instructions aside, Gomora was confident that whatever assignments that'd be given to him could be taken care of quickly, which left him, in his thoughts, with an entire week without assignments or missions to carry out – an entire week of focusing on nothing other than what he wanted to. The thought intrigued him.

In the past, this notion might've been received less enthusiastically than now (for Gomora's only true weekly-by-weekly plan was to visit Nebular's disco, at the end of every week), but, given the circumstances of having Nikita as a guest, the thought of having one week of freedom, without evening appointments to infiltrate and assassinate, was indeed sparkworthy.  
LeFey said something else, but it was only when another waiter appeared at the table (after enduring hard glances from the Perentils surrounding their presumed objection of protection) to place before both LeFey and Gomora plates of steamed, yellow crest, garnished with magenta sprouts, and ladled with a purplish gravy (bread and a side dish of crystallized vegetables accompanied the dish).

"Ah, if high-class were only a touch more cost-effective…", LeFey sighed, as he turned his attention to the food and dripped a few drops of iggam sauce into his gravy.

Gomora eyed his own plate with little interest to its contents, as he couldn't help but begin to pre-formulate his plans for the coming week.

"Please try it, Gomora, at least", came LeFey's voice, over the low chimes of the orchestra's efforts.

Not raising his head (as though doing so would put his newfound opportunity in jeopardy), Gomora did as he was told and began eating his meal in steady bites, though not tasting the food at all; he couldn't help but keep his mind off of all of the possibilities that had become before him…all of which included Niki…he couldn't keep his mind off of Niki.  
LeFey didn't appear to mind Gomora's silence, and might've even silently relished in the belief that the Experiment took the order, literally, without question.

"Of course, you'll still have to meet up with someone else to get the intricate details on the situations", the Perentil spoke.

"Okay", was Gomora's simple reply.

LeFey managed a small grin and went on eating at his dish.

"How's things going with your boyfriend?"

Gomora almost dropped his fork. He dared a peek up at the Perentil…and was relieved (though unsure of the presentation's authenticity) to find LeFey's head still directed at his food, and not at him – perhaps the question wasn't as surgically offensive as it had appeared to be.

"…Oh…good…"

"Good, good. Must feel good for you to have someone to go home to."

"…Yeah…"

"Do you have him rub you down after a hard night's work?"

"…No…"

"Does he prepare you dinner?"

"…No…"

"Ahh…the two of you get right to the sex?"

"…Not really…"

Gomora reconsidered – this might very well be another cerebral attack of the Perentil…for whether or not if it was intended to be, it had Gomora feeling uneasy.  
Luckily, LeFey was either too tired or too bored with the situation or Gomora (or the Experiment's lack of given submissiveness) or too internally focused on his own agenda to further inquire about the intricacies of Gomora's relationship; perhaps the evening wasn't turning into the celebration which he had claimed it to be, for a few moments later, he checked the time of the watch on his wrist – Gomora had never witnessed LeFey doing this, before…and whether or not he himself was deemed to be in trouble by this action was yet unclear.  
Seeing his boss glancing at his watch, though, Gomora thought, was obviously of some significance…after all, what in the universe could manage to disappoint LeFey's enigmatic smile?

Beneath them, the orchestra finished their piece and took a break whilst a recording began to play in their stead.  
At the top of a high balcony, a young child belonging to a wealthy couple dropped a fork the entire distance down to the main floor, where it shattered an empty glass upon a table right down the middle. A shriek of terror rose up from the bowels of the restaurant as the frightened guest fell out of her seat.  
Gomora looked at LeFey, whose expression was vaguely self-sardonic, with a taste of empathy upon his lips. Whether or not this most curious of expressions was the by-product of the accident which had happened many feet below them was unclear, but it certainly saw to the ushering in of a change of attitude in the Perentil.

"Well, this swill is absolutely disgusting", he remarked, abruptly, setting down his fork upon his plate.  
"Forty-five credits for a damn salad, if you'll believe it. God, I hate these fancy places…"

Gomora, though heavily astounded by this new turn of the Perentil, felt too unprotected to inquire why LeFey had then chosen this place to have dinner…  
What had moved this drastic change of character in his employer?

"You didn't like it either, did you, Gomora?"

"…It's not great, LeFey."

The Perentil pushed his plate away and continued to look dissatisfied.

"…At least I didn't spoil your appetite", he remarked.  
"There's barely enough on these plates to satisfy a trog."

Gomora nodded, feeling that it was best to agree in this situation. He figured to himself that it wasn't he whom had peeved LeFey, at this time or before, or he'd certainly be feeling more oppression from LeFey than he had; on the contrary, LeFey appeared quite pre-occupied with himself, at the moment, to an extent that the Experiment felt surpassed any importance of both the unsatisfactory conversation or food.  
What was up with the usually-settled LeFey?

"One of you stay and pay these extortionists what they want", LeFey directed at his fellow Perentils, as he arose from his chair.  
"I'm leaving – I need to prepare for my trip. Call the chauffer and tell him to start the cruiser up."

The orders were quickly ingested by the Perentils, who, quite cooperatively, dispersed and detached themselves to move back towards the table and to place a call, by way of cellular phone, whilst another one of them moved forward preemptively, obviously to deal with the bill.

"I'm sorry for this disappointing soirée, Gomora", LeFey apologized to the still-aseated Experiment.  
"A trip to the fast food counter might've been more satisfying, huh?...come with me, will you?"

Placing a meager credit upon the table, LeFey moved into his pack of Perentil escorts, urging the Experiment to follow. Obeying, Gomora hopped down from his seat, still grateful that LeFey seemed detached from the usual directness of his contact. He followed the Perentilian group from the balcony into an elevator, where he stood silently as the lift descended. LeFey checked his watch, again. The glass walls of the pod-shaped elevator revealed their descent – from the near top, all the way down to the ground floor. Nobody spoke a word during the short trip.

Eventually, the elevator opened up to the scene of about three waiters finishing cleaning up the shattered glass, whilst another two were in the efforts of trying to calm the startled Xantil woman. As the party stepped onto the main floor, Gomora dared a glance up towards the distant ceiling, lest he were to expect any more forked, falling utensils.  
The party of Perentils parted any waiter or other guest in their way with less than ease, and succeeded in catchy many glances from diners who would look up at their group for a quick peek before pretending to bring their attention back to their food, for fear that their glances might have been detected.

"I do hope you have enjoyed your stay at the _Golden Gaia_, sirs", a voicy employee slushed, as he accompanied LeFey and his group stoopingly on their parting steps towards the main doors.  
"Please, was our offer adequate?"

"I sat for ten minutes before a waiter came to me", came LeFey's low, lashing reply, moving Gomora to look up, once more, in surprise.  
"And as for the food, I might've well have been eating muck."

The waiter stopped short in his step, his face awash of surprise and shock, above all else – perhaps not because of having the restaurant insulted, by itself, but having it done so by the head of the Perentils, no less.  
Perhaps the slightly fearful expression that overcame him as the Perentils and Gomora stepped out through the door revealed that he was fearing for his life (was negativity from LeFey a death sentence?).

"…P-Please come again…"

The party stepped into the coldness of the night, upon the lighted street. LeFey shivered whilst one of his men hailed the limousine-like cruiser that was standing activated a few meters from the entrance to the restaurant.  
Gomora, despite feeling the coldness, himself, couldn't help but take his eyes off of LeFey, for the pure surprise that had been his focus of the short-lived meal, and which had even temporarily overridden the thought of having the coming week for his own.  
LeFey was never one to lose his couthness, and certainly not in front of anybody who could take an impression. As cold and calculating as he was, Gomora had never witnessed him enter a state of outright restlessness or rudeness, that included hurried departures or insults to a restaurant's staffmember.

Perhaps it seemed odd for Gomora to wonder, one might figure…for wouldn't one think that a character capable of murder would or should be capable of the everyday impoliteness of everybody else, even those who haven't dealt in crime for a living?  
Gomora didn't know – all that he knew was that LeFey, in his serpentine charm and maliciousness, had never expressed any form of emotion that might have left an undisputable negative impression upon his image.  
LeFey's mood was likely, the Experiment figured, to have something to do with the trip of which LeFey had spoken of – for his mentioning of it seemed to have been the marker in time at which LeFey seemed to have run out of his never-ending spool of cool.

"_Gahhh_…", the Perentil breathed, turning in a half-circle towards Gomora, as he breathed visible air into the wind and the cruiser pulled up behind him.  
"Please forgive my attitude, my Gomora – I'm not upset at you."

"…Anything that I can do to help?", Gomora asked, his voice shallow in the cold air.

The Perentil shook his head.

"No…just get your assignments done, while I'm away at this damn…whilst I'm on my trip."

"Will do", Gomora replied, whilst giving acknowledgence to what appeared to have been made a fact – LeFey's mood definitely had something to do with the trip which he was headed on.

The cruisers doors opened, and LeFey and his entire group of escorts stepped from the elevated curb into the lightless confines of the vehicle.  
After a moment, LeFey's face, appearing tired and stressed, shown from the darkness behind the open window of the car and eyed Gomora.

"Your driver's right behind us", he told the Experiment.  
"Tell him to take you to the place of the worker of mine, Zixx, that you were directed to, last time – he'll have another complete overview of your missions for you. I'll expect you to have completed them by the time I get back."

"No problem, LeFey."

"Oh, and Gomora?"

"Yes, LeFey?"

"Get that surprised abd opportunistic expression off of your face – everybody, even me, has bad days…and I will be coming back."

He had spoken this with a hint of a snarl, that, though extremely underlying, had sent jolts up Gomora's body as though he had been suddenly confronted by a wild animal – LeFey, if not being short of able to read minds, had caught him off-guard…and Gomora was immediately regretting being uncovered in such a position by him.

"…Yes, LeFey."

The Perentil's pupils, swimming in the centers of his large eyes, appeared to be part of the reaching darkness itself, as it had, again, etched itself perfectly into his face, defining his features into what they were – a crude, unsatisfied frown directed at Gomora, who had once more been brought to full, undivided attention by the very gaze of the Perentil.  
This gaze lingered for a few moments before LeFey sniffed a few times and shook his head, almost timidly.

"Just get it done, Gomora", he said, as he began retracting himself back to the inside of the cruiser.  
"You'll get paid once I'm back, alright?"

"…Okay", Gomora agreed, obediently, knowing that there was nothing other that he could do.  
"Have a good trip."

LeFey didn't reply to this, and simply slid down the window's pane with the touch of a button.  
As the cruiser pulled away, leaving Gomora behind, the Experiment was almost positive that he had heard LeFey sneeze inside of the cruiser.  
LeFey, to his knowledge, had never been ill.

Gomora continued to stand there for a while, watching after the cruiser even after it had disappeared down the street, and quietly contemplated, amidst the hint of drizzle that fell from overhead, the obvious question – what in the universe could be so intimidating as to move LeFey the Perentil out of his shell of calmness?  
Who in existence possessed that power? – to bring to sniffing the individual who had harnessed the complete power of an Experiment of Jumba Jookiba?

He might've gone on wondering, but a resounding honk of a horn informed him that the driver of the cruiser which he had been waiting on was becoming impatient (and cold, as the passenger's door had been opened to accommodate its guest).  
Climbing inside, Gomora let the thought doze him a bit whilst they headed for his next destination – the first step in doing the only thing which, it seemed to him, he was good at.

* * *

The driver took him to the apartment of the Zixx, whom Gomora met only at the door, where he was supplied with a background and layout of his three targets, their crimes, and the best possible time for moving against them, individually…all in a single paper file. He was offered no gadgets, this time.  
With the file in-hand, Gomora was returned to the _Permantium_ factory, where he entered into his own cruiser and began to make way back towards his apartment.

Halfway there, however, he paused in his thoughts, and considered, again the possibility which had been lain before him – an entire week with Nikita.  
It was, he quickly decided, too good of an opportunity to soil with complex evenings of assassinations.

Acting spontaneously, and ignoring Zixx's carefully-calculated plans of action, Gomora drove into the shopping district and visited two open-all-night convenience stores and a hardware store, where he purchased, in all, three bottles of ammonium chromade, three packages of nihone metroxoid (a substance used in vehicle maintenance), three electronic timers, a small wheel of fuse wire, _FragAmp_ (an artificial scent used to enhance the fragrance of perfumes, leather, phermones, etc.), and three small pouches made of natural fibers.  
Parking his car in an alleyway, Gomora constructed three small devices, the knowledge to do so conceived during a seminar attended by all of Jumba's battle-themed Experiments.

The crimson Experiment then, in turn, made his way to three consecutive homes in the lower-class district, and deposited one device, each, in the windows of the homes of Vlix Manotobe, Iyuan Selevandamo, and Mahn Wankahn – a casino-owner, a sex-trafficker, and an illegal drug-smuggler.  
At exactly five minutes to midnight, all three devices exploded simultaneously, eliminating each of the targets, and leaving Gomora to drive leisurely towards his apartment, his mind bubbling as he pondered all of the possibilities as to make the best use of his time with Nikita, LeFey gone, and his objectives preemptively completed.


	24. Wearing Uncertainty

(_A/N: welcome, all readers, that have waited patiently for almost five months since my last update for this chapter; I beg for your forgiveness regarding my absence for so long - school and laziness brought it on, but I should've been writing more, nonetheless. I hope that this chapter can make up for the lack of material that I've presented, despite being fairly without much action. Please, read and review, and, above all, enjoy_)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 24

* * *

Whatever he had done to deserve this, thought Niki, was eluding him with great ability, leaving him to wonder whether Gomora, his host, had gained a euphoria on drugs…for that was the only reason that seemed applicable to his host's surprising state of mood.  
Niki would've been lying if he were to claim that his attitude towards Gomora, whilst honest-to-goodness in its reflection of his situation, wasn't meant to slightly put-off his fellow Experiment, in wake of the prospective visions that he feared Gomora might posses about him. His less-than-openness, the smaller Experiment figured, would be sure to tone down anybody whom it was directed at…but somehow, this theory had flopped in practice with Gomora: waking up in the morning, Nikita was greeted by the sight of his grinning, mohawked host, who, after serving a breakfast that came straight from the microwave, insisted upon another trip into the city. 

"Your clothes, Niki – you only have that one pair?", he had inquired, before going on without waiting for an answer.  
"Well, they aren't washed yet, and I wouldn't think that you want to go on wearing mine, forever - I'm taking you shopping for a wardrobe of your own."

And so, it was with few more words on the subject that the pair of them descended into Gomora's cruiser and eventually back into the streets of the city, beneath a cloudy sky. Gomora had said something about a mall, and Niki presumed that was where they were headed towards…for he certainly didn't recognize the area in which they were driving – they were, seemingly, directly on the border between the upper and the lower districts.  
Eventually, a towering box-shaped building rose up from behind several other structures, and quickly presented itself as the only shopping-mall in the poorer quadrant.

"The only real place to get good clothes", Gomora declared, whilst lowering his cruiser into an empty parking space and simultaneously plucking at his tank top, which connected behind his neck and displayed a sinister looking eyeball ("_I Can Read Your Mind_").

Niki considered that he might've been worried about such a statement coming from Gomora, but the fact that he had never been inside of a shopping mall was featureous enough to hold his attention.  
Exiting the car, Gomora led the long way past the countless, filled open-air parking spaces, towards the main entrance, which was comprised of six sets of tall, wide, glass double-doors, ever active as customers of all races and sizes entered and exited over their thresholds, some of them toting large, white paper bags.  
Passing underneath the central set of doors (behind a lumbering Empraph), which seemed ominous to small Niki in their height, the two Experiments found themselves standing at the end of a massive hall, at least a mile long and adorned, to each side, with numerous stores and shops, beneath loud, attractive display signs. Niki glanced up, and found at least five more levels of stores advancing towards the ceiling of the massive building, connected by balconied walkways. Elevators and metallic, moving sidewalks were commonplace, as they seemed the only possible way of allowing an individual a time-efficient tour of the place.  
Niki was impressed, and even a bit in awe – so much, in fact, that he didn't even mind when Gomora took him gently by the arm to lead him towards a large, electronic map of the premises, and to save him from being stepped on by a careless Erephan.

"Let's see…", his crimson host mused, scratching his chin as he shrewdly eyed the diagrams.  
"Jumba didn't like me enough to do much with my memory – I always forget my way around here…"

Nikita figured that it wouldn't matter too much whether they got lost – this place was so huge, it seemed at least a day's trip to navigate through the various stores and floors of the mall.  
This fact, he noticed, didn't seem to daunt any of the other customers, who stepped in and out of the entrance without any exasperation seemingly derived from strenuous navigation. He didn't let it concern him, though – whether or not he and Gomora were stupider than the others in their sense of direction, after all, wasn't really the topic of interest at the moment.

"Here we go!", Gomora eventually sung out, after some moments of scanning the map.  
"Second floor, section three. Help me remember that?"

He led Niki unto one of the various moving sidewalks, between another plod-footed alien and two identical Virdras, making sure to gain stance towards the edge of the electronic walkway, from which they stepped off of, after a while, and stepped into a capsule-shaped elevator (Niki held his breath), which lifted them and the Virdras up about fifty feet before depositing them onto the second story of the store. While the Virdras went one way, Gomora headed Niki into the other, onto another moving sidewalk which directed them forwards. The sidewalk was flanked by two glass walls over which lay the fall to the lower level. Niki refrained from looking down.  
Finally, after Gomora had been craning his neck and standing upon his toes to try and catch sight of the upcoming stores ahead of them, he exclaimed excitedly and reached behind himself to touch Niki by the shoulder.

"Here we are!"

By his host, Niki was directed off of the sidewalk before standing in front of a wide, department-esque shop, under the name "_MikoMako: All Sizes, Styles, Materials_".

"My favorite clothes counter", Gomora announced, fondly.  
"There's bound to be something here to suit you, Niki."

"I don't really want to spend your money, Gomora…"

"Don't worry – we'll raid the clearances, if it makes you feel any better."

As the two of them moved into the store's premises, Niki was quick to notice how the place was sectioned: it seemed that _MikoMako_ wasn't a clothing brand, but merely the title of a inward chain-store (which was odd, because most brands of clothing and generally all other products had their own shops or stores within the mall), the innards of which were divided into peninsulaed boundaries, labeled with the brand of whatever clothing – Niki read "_Tteresapo – for the entire family_", "_Quadrant Four Clothing – from Shorcan to Erephan casual gear_", and "_Black Hole Articles – chains, spikes, and studs: be one with the darkest reaches_".  
He felt very much relieved when Gomora lead him past the _Black Hole_ store.

A short trek inwards, Gomora pondered a few stores' fashionable validity before deciding upon and leading Niki into "_Oed's – for minor Galactic sizes_". The substore's layout was plain enough: barely larger than Gomora's apartment, the walls displayed ordered multitudes of hanging shirts and hooded sweaters, in front of which were likewise-ordered lines of gridded metal shelves which appeared to hold pants, socks, and undergarments. Near the far side of the store were dressing rooms and a cash register.  
Almost immediately upon their entry, a short, bald-headed Pengian waddled over to the pair, wearing a collared uniform and smiling brightly.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome!", he chirruped, bouncing upon his flat feet, making his chins wobble like pudding atop of his collar.  
"Welcome to _Oed's_! I'm Kryhs, and I'll be your shopping assistant!"

"What's up, Kryhs?", Gomora replied, grinning with an equal brightness (Niki figured that he was in the mood to play along with the shopping assistant's enthusiasm).  
"Guess what? – we're here for some clothes!"

"Wonderful! That's what we have!", Kryhs the shopping squealed, clapping his fingerless limbs.  
"Are you guys shopping for yourselves or someone else?"

"For ourselves, by golly!"

"I knew it! Please, our garments in your guys' general sizes are over near that end! – see the red section?"

"I sure do. I think we'll get there on our own."

"You're sure you won't be needing assistance?"

"I think we'll manage…and if not, we'll know who to call!"

Kryhs giggled before doing his best to bow out of their way.  
Gomora chuckled to himself but didn't comment on the interaction as he and Niki made their way over towards the section which they had been directed to. In sizes comparable to their own, there hung jackets, sweaters, vests, and t-shirts along the walls, which Gomora eyed as he took hold of an extendable, hooked pole that stood to customers' convenience.

"Here", he said to Niki, as he handed him a small, handled basket.  
"Now, do you see anything specific that you like?"

Before he could answer, Niki observed Gomora already maneuvering the pole up into the reaches of t-shirts.

"Umm…well…"

"How about this one?", Gomora remarked, as he skillfully dropped a blue shirt into the basket from high above.

"Umm…it's nice…"

"Cool. You just hold that basket up for me, will you?"

With little to say in response and not having much of a choice otherwise, Niki held up the plastic carrying-basket, as directed, and watched Gomora deliver a wide selection of torso attire into the basket. The red Experiment, it seemed, was as coordinated with the service pole as he was with his sword, as not a single ware went astray or missed Niki's basket, and before long, Niki felt as though he were carrying half of the store within the case (Gomora's method, it seemed, would be a manner of 'take-all-and-see-what-fits').

"For starters", Gomora told Nikita, before taking the basket from him and leading him over to the floored aisles, where he went to work by throwing pants and undershorts into the basket, going easy upon the socks.

The complete gathering procedure took about ten minutes; Gomora, looking around the side of the heaping basketful of clothes, grinned knowingly at Niki.

"To the changing rooms!", he directed, once more.

Despite the massive load of fabricware in his arms, Gomora showed no handicap in maneuvering his way towards the dressing rooms, which they reached in good time, after passing by the counter of the waving Kryhs.

"Go on, go on", Gomora urged Niki, ushering him inside one of the plastic-walled stalls, throwing the small mountain of clothes in behind him.  
"Take your time! Try 'em all on!...and keep in mind: I got a pocket that can handle all of this, if ya want it!"

He closed the door upon throwing a hearty wink at Niki – simply no question about it.  
The small Experiment stood still for a moment, and considered the situation to border on ludicrous: Gomora's overexaggerated generosity had left his guest in a stall with more unpaid-for clothes than he could hope to wear in a month, amongst them articles that were clearly not his size and of colors that Niki wouldn't have felt bad in turning down. Gomora, Niki guessed, was obviously trying extremely hard to suppress Niki's memory of the events that had brought them to this…but did he really think that buying Niki some (the word being debatable) clothes was going to make up for it?

…Would it?  
The answer was simple: of course not…these were only clothes, among them a few nice ones…

Delicately, Niki lifted a short-sleeved shirt from the pile – it was of a soft red color, and its front depicted a scene of a mountain at sunset.  
…In truth, the shirt wasn't too exemplary of an article, but it was a shirt, which Gomora had promised could be Niki's. Niki considered this – a shirt…nay, a complete wardrobes of his own? – more than a single, worn set?  
Though he still harbored institutions concerning being spent money on, the offer was quite likeable.

Shirts, pants, vests, clothes of his own…something he had never really had.

The Experiment removed his own vest and garbed himself in the red shirt; it fit him very well, and didn't look half-bad in contrast to the color of his fur. He turned, slowly, observing himself from all angles in the stall's mirror. He found nothing not to like.  
He disrobed himself from the red shirt and set it aside. He picked up a blue, puffed vest which he slipped over his shoulders; it looked a bit silly on him, for being at least two sizes too large…but the material that it was made of felt very comfortable. He put this vest aside, too, before lifting up a pair of maroon slacks, which he quickly deemed too clown-like to adorn.

From outside of the stall, there came the anxious voice of Gomora;  
"Hey, Niki…you doin' alright in there?"

"…Yes", Niki answer, pausing momentarily as he reached for a patterned, sleeved shirt.

"You tryin' the clothes on?"

"Yes."

"Finding anything you like?"

"…I think so."

"Good! You take your time! Keep in mind – there's no limit if ya don't have a real sky overhead!"

* * *

About twenty minutes later, during which Gomora had indulged Kryhs in a conversation about weddings, Nikita emerged from the stall, adorned in the clothes that he had entered with, but he stood in front of two sizeable piles of clothes. The rack meant for the rejected articles had proven too lacking in compartment for Niki to hang all of the clothes which he had decided against; the pile of rejected pieces, though they had been somewhat folded, was a slightly larger heap than the pile of approved clothes.  
This outcome still seemed to appease Gomora, who approached the select pile and lifted it into his arms, and hurried past Niki to Kryhs' checkout-counter, upon which he plopped the pile before the surprised Pengian. 

"Oh!...my, my…", the portly creature gasped, after regaining his composure (for he had almost fallen from his perch on a high-chair as the pile had been presented in front of him).

"Just stocking up", Gomora told him, winking at Niki, who had stepped up behind him.

"…what about the clothes still in the stall?", Niki asked.

"Oh, don't worry about them!", came Kryhs' voice from behind the pile, as his motions and repeated electronic _beep_s indicated that he had begun price-scanning each item.  
"I can hang them back up…courtesy to generous customers…"

This store policy, Niki thought, was either fictional or very cruel upon Kryhs, who looked ready to be toppled by the heap of clothes that was already before him; it took a few minutes before every item had been scanned, and, once it had been paid for by way of debit, Gomora had to hold open a large shopping bag for the small clerk to fit all of the clothes inside of it.

"Th-There you are!", Kryhs said, his wobbling face flushed with effort as the clothes disappeared with a slide of the bag's plastic zip-locker.  
"Well!...whatever you've both got planned, there's clothes there to last you for some time…"

"Doesn't mean we don't have reason to come back…", Gomora replied, grinning mischievously, and tapping the counter with his clawed fingers.  
"…to say hello to the most helpful shopping assistant on the planet, hmm?"

Whilst Kryhs, by way of Gomora's suggestion, was launched into an instant fit of blushing and unrestrained giggles, Niki looked the other way and rolled his eyes, almost audibly – amidst a purchase, Gomora was somewhere between flirting with and teasing the Pengian (who, in his own defense, gave the impression of not being the center of anybody's attention, prior to this sales-transaction).  
Gomora turned to find Niki looking contemplative – so contemplative that he didn't even seem to notice when he placed a hand on his shoulder to urge him along.

"Was a nice thing, meeting you, Kryhs", the larger of the two Experiments said, over his shoulder, as they departed through the entrance of the store (the Pengian had seen them to it).  
"Be here the next time we come back?"

"Oh-h! M-Most definitely!", the employee replied, lighting up at the thought.  
"P-Please, come again!"

It was more than obvious to the both of them that Kryhs' words were more than those of commercial courtesy; indeed, as they headed back out into the vast premises of the inner mall, Niki found himself feeling a bit sorry for Kryhs the Pengian – was a life that was driven by a short-standard clothing store worse than having to live in a pouf?  
He came to a conclusion, but didn't ponder it – there was no need to.

* * *

It was almost noon by the time Gomora and his guest left the store; still in the mall, he suggested indulging in lunch, and Niki, though not necessarily agreeing, didn't put up an opposition against the suggestion. They traveled by way of moving sidewalk towards the center of the mall, where was situated a fancy circle of food shops and restaurants of all varieties. Though not wanting to appear cheap to the smaller Experiment (or wanting to give the impression that the trip to the clothing store in his name had depleted his credit), Gomora had nonetheless gained a distaste for food that came for over eight credits per meal, since his visit to the _Golden Gaia_. He settled both of them for a small-brand locale, just an area over from _Nakkneibe_. They took seats at a small, raised booth, and Gomora stored the shopping bag between himself and the wall. Moderate business in the place gave them a few moments before a waitress would come to them.  
Gomora wasn't sure whether or not Niki was hungry, but his comrade's ever-meagering physique gave him constant reason to assume that Niki could use something to eat…and, after all, offering some food was the mark of a good host, or not? 

"Know whatcha' want, yet?", he asked, after both of them had glanced over the menu-card.

"…Not much", Niki answered, softly.  
"…I'm not really hungry…and I don't really want to spend anymore of your money…"

"Nonsense", Gomora insisted, even though he figured that his saying so probably wouldn't alter his friend's opinion.  
"You'll look even better in those clothes if you fill them out a bit more."

Disparage overcame Gomora when it seemed clear that this had been the wrong thing to say; he figured, by Niki's immediate perking of eyes and thereafter lowering of his head, that Niki's physique was quite aware to him, and that discussing it wasn't something that he was fond of. The red Experiment thought in vain of something to say, but the only intercourse between them remained the sharply brought-on silence that was mutually uncomfortable.  
A waitress possessing one large eye in her forehead and a single tentacle atop her head approached their booth, toting a large, electronic pad.

"What'll it be, gorgeous?", she asked Gomora, with a laid-back friendliness that was a combination of professionalism and admiration of the Experiment's body.

"…Oh!...uh, the maglio sandwich, please", Gomora replied, after returning to the present.  
"…and a lime tea, too."

She waitress copied this down upon her pad before turning towards Niki.

"And you, cutie?

"…just juice…", Niki replied, quietly, his head unraised and a complete lack of gusto in his voice.

"Aw, what's the matter, hon – not feeling too well?", the waitress inquired, maternally, as she looked over her large board.  
"How 'bout some hot tea with honey? – it'll perk ya right up; I promise."

"…No, thank you; the juice is fine."

"Some coffee?"

"No, thank you…"

"Well, how 'bout I fix you some soup, then?..sorry, hon, but I really can't stand to see ya lookin' all down, like that…"

"…alright…"

Copying this down, the waitress placed a three-fingered hand upon Niki's shoulder and gave him a small shake.

"Hey, it'll do ya good…promise", she told him, before moving on to wait on another table.

Gomora watched her leave, buying a moment.

"Nice lady, huh?"

"Guess so…"

"…Looking forward to your new wardrobe?"

"I guess so…"

"…Do ya feel up to doing something after we're done, here?"

"I don't know…"

"...Wanna…"

Gomora stopped before he spoke, and would've placed his head on the table-top if he had experienced the exasperation he felt now from any other source; aching with frustration (and tickled with annoyance, by now), and his notable skills and talents made obsolete, the large Experiment, despite all his trials, could not overcome the mind of his smaller comrade.

"_Goddammit_…", he thought bitterly to himself.  
"_What does it take?_"

"…Hey, Gomora?"

Niki's voice came through Gomora's thoughts and the sounds of the diner with surprising acuteness, despite that the small Experiment hadn't spoken in any extraordinary tone. Gomora raised his head in surprise, willing to find out what had caused Niki to open his mouth of his own accord, if nothing else.  
Nikita was looking at Gomora with some degree of earnesty, his head resting upon the hand of his bended arm, his elbow on the table-top.

"…Yeah, Niki?"

"…I'm sorry for being a pain, all this time."

Gomora's ears perked; if he had been in his clear mind, he would've figured that there was nothing extraordinary about apologizing, but Niki's doing so, seeming right out of nowhere, had caught him by surprise.

"…Hmm?"

Niki was alternating his view between his host and the table top. There was no real change in his demeanor as he spoke, as his speech retained the same level of uncomortableness that it usually held.

"Well, with you letting me stay with you…and buying me clothes, and everything…", he continued, quietly.  
"…I've been kinda…moody around you, even though it's not really your fault. You've done a lot for me…and you haven't done me any harm, so…I'm sorry for being an ass to you, with no reason for it."

Gomora blinked as he took this in; Niki's eyes flitted to Gomora's face in-between phrases, and as he finished speaking, his eyes retained their low altitude as he stared emptily at the table-top.

"I'm…I…I don't think you've been a…been an ass, Nikita", Gomora spoke in reply, and Niki raised his point of view slightly, to Gomora's hands on the counter.  
"…I…no harm done, Niki…I haven't exactly been your regular host…and I'm sorry, too, for making you feel uncomfortable…and the clothes…"

Niki sighed, softly.

"I know you're not trying to buy me", he said.  
"…you wouldn't buy me, and if you had wanted me otherwise, I know you could've done it with no problem."

"…Niki…"

"Naw, don't worry, Gomora…I know you wouldn't…I'm just…I'm just really messed up, right now."

The young Experiment had set both of his elbows upon the table, and had put his forehead into his palms. Gomora looked on at him, unhappy to be nearly as much in the dark as he was before.

"…Is there anything that I can do?", he asked, carefully.

"Not unless you can set back time…", Niki mumbled in reply.

He looked back up at Gomora.

"…But thank you for asking, Gomora."

"…No problem, Niki."

Their conversation faded into silence, and the sounds of the diner permeated their boothspace once more. Some minutes went by, and a different waitress delivered to their table the sandwich and the soup. She left without very many words, and Gomora regarded his sandwich with less enthusiasm than he had ordered it with.

"I don't want to be like this…", Niki continued, stirring at his burgundy broth.  
"…I'd much rather feel…bit happier, maybe."

Gomora might've begun wondering with the fervor of his previous frustration about what had brought on this sudden open-ness (relative as it was) about Niki, but right now, he was somewhere between thinking of what was causing Niki his unpleasant mood and how he might cease it, or otherwise find a worthy way to entertain his guest.

"…Are you sure there's nothing that I can do?", he asked, tentatively.

"If I knew of something, I'd kill for it", Niki replied, creating rhythmic waves in his bowl.  
"Right now, there's more things going on in my head than I can deal with."

"…Wanna tell me about it?"

"…A lot of unanswered questions…lotsa _why_s, _what-if_s, and _who-was-it_s…and a bargeful of this dead feeling inside of my chest."

"…You sound like you lost someone."

Niki looked up, faster than he might've, otherwise, at Gomora, on whose face was evident a quiet revelation.  
The tan-furred Experiment eyed his counterpart with a concoction of surprise and uneasy shrewdness, but Gomora spoke before Niki could ask.

"Hey, I'm friends with the DJ - DJ Nebular", he explained.

"…it's no secret that he's missing someone, and you've pretty much reiterated what he's described."

Niki's eyes stayed on Gomora wordlessly for a moment before dropping down into his bowl.

"…I don't wanna talk", he muttered, lifting the first spoonful to hit mouth.  
"I don't wanna talk…"

"…I'm sorry", Gomora said softly, looking away from Niki and across the parlor.  
"…Didn't mean to…sorry…"

"…It's not your fault…"

Gomora's eyes returned to Niki's face once more, more surprised now than ever before that the conversation was not over. Niki spooned his soup, not looking up, and spoke into the depth of his meal.

"…I just hate my life. I wish I could die."

At the moment, Gomora wasn't truly surprised to hear this from his guest…but, as the entire noon had proved, it startled him, nonetheless…and he didn't trust himself to speak.

"I'm sick and tired of having to protect myself…I just wanna be able to put it all down, and not worry…I wanna be able to stop fucking caring about it, all the time…"

Gomora listened to Niki's few words, trying very hard to dig through his comrade's abstractness and uncover exactly what had brought Niki to feel the way he had ever since he had known him. He didn't believe that Niki had always displayed such a distance to everything around him, and even though he figured that he'd be considered out-of-place, he longed to take some action that'd move Niki out of his emotional stupor. Yet, he had no idea how to interact with Niki in a manner that would successfully and inoffensively penetrate the defenses set up by the Experiment…who, it seemed, didn't want Gomora making any penetrations of any kind about him.  
The red Experiment toyed with his sandwich, wordlessly, throwing occasional glances at Niki, who didn't return the eye contact. He longed to say something of worth and value to make Niki feel better...but what can be said when somebody's loss is too great to be compensated?

"…You don't have to protect yourself from me, Niki."

Had he been researching his own method of approach, Gomora would've regretted this brash line; what reason did Niki have to believe him? – what would such an appeal gain other than to reinforce the smaller Experiment's shielding?  
Niki, at first, didn't seem to have Gomora…but a moment later, still peering into his soup, gave a small nod, in an emotion that was quite mysterious, only suggesting that he wanted to believe some part of what Gomora had said.  
He muttered something under his breath that Gomora didn't understand, but a moment later, he raised his head entirely, and looked at Gomora with tired eyes.

"…Thank you, Gomora…I appreciate you saying so…really, I do."

A silence befell the pair again, and they commenced to continue nibbling at their meals. Gomora felt a need to say something more, for Niki's feelings, conveyed through his response, were as unclear as ever, but as he sat, eating his sandwich, neither anything very intelligible nor a sense of foolhardiness prompted him to speak again, and he remained reduced to eyeing Nikita in glimpses, as Niki ate his soup without hesitation.  
Niki's thoughts were unclear to himself: feeling excruciatingly tired following his few meager confessions, he had meant the last words which he had spoken to Gomora in all honestly, as much as he had the sarcasm of the words which Gomora had no overheard. Prevailing all, he was too tired to do much of what he had planned to undertake, and, though he might not have admitted to himself, he had submitted himself, somewhat, to whatever he figured would come…for he was too tired to care, otherwise.

Not that he didn't want to care, of course…

* * *

(_A/N: I hope y'all managed to enjoy that...it's definitely not the best chapter that I've written, but I'm trying hard not to rush anything between Niki and Gomy. The next chapter - which I hope will be posted in signifigantly less than time than it took me to write this one - will most likely have a better pace and make more sense...I hope y'all are still interested in my story, by then.  
Stay safe, my readers...thanks for checking this out_) 


	25. Speaking Of Sunshine

(_A/N: hullo, readers…first chapter herein two months. Hope it measures up. Please enjoy_…)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon 

Chapter 25

* * *

The glass window of the box-shaped washing machine, number twenty-five, displayed a swirling concoction of colors, from simple grays to near-extravagant shades of the rainbow, as Niki's new wardrobe, enforced by discolor-retardant fabric softener, underwent a pre-adorning wash.  
The laundromat was fairly occupied, and once more, Nikita and Gomora comprised one of the smaller couples that tried to keep from being stepped on by the larger species that moseyed around, waiting with baskets in-hand for their loads to be done.  
Nikita leaned with his back against a cement pillar in the room while Gomora leaned sideways against a vibrating dryer, his arm crossed as he threw glances from Niki to the washer to various characters around the room, occasionally raising his chin to acknowledge somebody he seemed to know. Neither of them spoke. Nikita, looking down, with his hands in his pockets, appeared resolved at keeping low in the large room (washers lined a sixty-foot wall, facing an army of clothes-drying machines), while Gomora tapped his finger and occasionally shifted his weight from foot to foot. 

"Shoulda brought a book…", he muttered.

Niki made no reply (though it was possible that the other noises in the room had covered Gomora's muttered words, and he hadn't heard him) and continued to look down.  
The silence between them retained until two police officers, reptilian, garbed in uniforms, entered the laundromat. The walked single-mindedly across the wide room, passing by the Experiment duo. Neither Gomora nor Niki had noticed either of them approach, and had only quite realized that they were policemen until they had passed them, heading down to the manager's office.  
Niki and Gomora looked on, tensely, as the manager, a frail-looking, sallow character in an apron, stepped out of his office and briefly exchanged words with the officers before the two of them turned around and exited the laundromat, passing by the Experiments for a second time while the manager, shaking his wispy head, retreated back into his office.

"Kinda nice, isn't it?", Gomora remarked, turning to Niki, once both of them had untensed.  
"I mean, not having to run from the cops, even though we're wanted practically all over the universe? - this here's a piece-of-shit planet, but ain't it nice for a change to be somewhere where no one gives a damn about who you are?"

Niki received this; though it didn't show upon his face, Gomora's injection swirled through his mind in an electric evauation.

"…Not necessarily", he answered softly.

"Hmm? Whatcha' mean?", the red Experiment asked, cocking his head inquisitively.

Nikita looked about, from the moving mass of nameless laundromat-frequenters to Gomora, in his "I Can Read Your Mind" tank top and dark pants.  
Gomora noted, with some curiosity, that even though Niki still looked far from not being unhappy, he was at least holding eye-contact with his host.

"…Well, don't you ever get lonely?", he asked, placing his hands into his pockets.  
"Everybody here sees you, but they don't know you."

"Eh, I know a fair few in this neighborhood", Gomora replied, shrugging.  
"I've been around."

"So've I…but nobody knows me."

"…Well, no reputation is better than a bad reputation, right?...or a wanted notice."

Niki's eyes fell to the floor for a moment; Gomora was relieved that they found their way back to his.

"Not knowing you is one thing…not giving a damn about you is another."

"…Explain that to me?"

"Who's to say those police officers didn't know we were wanted, but they just didn't care enough, for one reason or another, to deal with us?"

"Serves us, doesn't it? We're still standing here."

"…I guess so…but it's an awful thing, if you ask me."

"What is, Niki?"

"…Apathy…not giving a damn about someone right in front of your eyes."

The messages were encoded, Gomora figured, but at least he was being allowed to receive them. He wasn't naïve enough to expect an unobstructed precision from Niki on what made him less than content or happy…but gently entering into the mantle of what seemed to be the body of unspoken sadness that was Niki was a start, at least, he figured. It was one step closer to trying to get that frown off of Niki's face.

"…I guess that's a point", he concurred, glancing back at the washing machine, which was nearing completion.  
"Point made: we'd be better off if folks loved more freely, and if the Alliance would drop the damn search for us."

"…Suppose so…"

"But it won't be that easy, huh?"

"No."

"Yeah, nothing ever is…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Gomora watched Nikita as they turned away from eachother - the smaller Experiment in his unanswering silence; how very much he longed to peer into his mind to determine the enigmatic mechanics that determined his actions and openings, so very alien to even a rounded individual such as himself. Gomora figured that he could dream up theories in his head until every sun in the galaxy blew up, and would still be left guessing as to what exactly was in Niki's mind and memory to mute him so…so was the never-revealing face of Niki.

"…Still, we try, don't we?", he ventured, after a moment.  
"…By the way, is the load almost done?"

Deciding upon the unaffirmative approach (for the moment, at least), Gomora advanced to remove the soggy bundle from the machine's circular covace, and proceedingly went to deposit the dripping heap into one of the dryers, the panel of which Niki opened for him ("Thanks, Niki.").  
Once the machine had been set and started whirring, the pair of them stood back and observed the frilless scene for a moment. Gomora looked up at the clock which hung above the door of the manager's office.

"It'll be over an hour before this is done", he remarked.  
"Wanna do something until then?"

"…Like what?", Niki asked.

"…Well, ya wanna take a walk?...it'd be better than sitting around here until the dryer's done, don't you think?"

"Where would we walk to?"

"…Don't you want to take a walk?"

"I just want to know where we're walking to – I've never been in this area."

"Welll…that must mean you've never been to the park, huh?"

"No, I haven't…"

"Well!", said Gomora, his face brightening as he turned towards the exit in response, Niki following slowly.  
"In that case, you'll see something you've probably never seen before on this planet. You just wait and see."

Niki gave a small nod in reply, walking beside Gomora as they navigated a path through the wood of shuffling legs. The larger Experiment had started to speak about something concerning this park, but a commotion ahead of them had caught Niki's attention: two commuters had gotten into a verbal argument, and were not being discreet about it. Something about money, it seemed. It became enough to eventually catch Gomora's attention, as well. He shook his head.

"Some folks care less about privacy than the cops do about us, eh?", he remarked.

Something about this comment irked Niki – something which seemed to challenge his feelings, which he had voiced just a few moments before. He considered remarking something in return, but he never got to it – before he could open his mouth, he trod into a puddle of slippery, purple detergent which had just been spilled onto the floor by an unknowing Sxythuxian. In a moment, his balance was stolen, and he gave a breath-stealing cry as his feet flew up before him.  
In the split-second that followed, Niki considered the injuries that might be caused by - he thought this whilst falling - his head cracking against the floor at whiplash velocity: concussion, possible vertebral fractures at an obscure level, cerebral hemorrhage, intracranial bleeding. He remembered something that Jumba had told him – something along the lines of "incomplete and unstable formation and socialization of calcium agents" – and considered that he might break his hips, or shatter his spine from neck to tailbone ("_Porcelain faggot_", a voice he couldn't connect resurged in his mind). He remembered a segment from a movie that was reminiscent of his own. He braced himself for the pain which would insolently come forth only after the jarring shock had passed from the back of his head through his face. He made a fleeting note to himself that at times like these, the pain was unavoidable and had to be accepted.

Niki blinked, felt no pain after a few seconds, and realized that Gomora was holding him, and that he was not on the floor.  
The few individuals who had witnessed the scene directly would've claimed that the larger Experiment could only have noticed the smaller one slip out of the corner of his eye, but that he had, in mid-step, reversed his direction and leaned back in a balance-defying motion and had caught his comrade with a single outstretched arm, as though the two of them were finishing an extravagant dance.  
Niki blinked again, and turned to look at Gomora's face. The larger Experiment's eyes were wide, and his expression of fearful concern muddled by fading adrenaline. He could smell his breath, and he knew that Gomora could smell his.

"Are you alright?", he asked, in a voice that was calmer and more restrained that his face might disclaim.

"…Yes…", Niki answered, very quietly.

With a few more people watching, Gomora helped Niki back to both of his feet. The Sxythuxian looked 'round with his feathery head at the scene.

"Hey, man…what'you doing with my purple stuff?", he asked, sounding very, very dazed.

The two Experiments were able to leave the laundromat quickly; either the forest of legs had become slower or less dense, or weaving through it had gotten easier.

* * *

There was a twinging in his head, the feeling of which would've been rather expected in his calf or bicep. Still, it wasn't a physical twinge, as one would further expect, but rather an odd manifestation of a short-circuit, flickering queerly and annoyingly like an optical migraine. Niki supposed it had come of the slip, whether from a lingering potion of adrenaline which refused to dissipate (although he didn't feel lucky at all) or from a perversion of the flowing of blood in his brain. He considered an emboli, but he didn't feel ill, and therefore, Niki tried to dismiss the feeling, and tried to focus on other things.  
Although the task evaded him, there certainly was an abundance of things to observe – the lower district of the grey metropolis was wide awake in the early afternoon, with full sidewalks and vehicles about every level above their heads. Gomora led the way through the stream of creatures, thankfully finding an exit onto a smaller, less-crowded by-street. 

"Don't get lost", he warned, even though the cautionary remark would've been better received on the former street.

They walked for some time, over the hard concrete pavement that composed so much of the planet's surface, past lines of clustered buildings that never seemed to get smaller, and formed a continuous, industrial canopy that threw shadows over the already-darkened streetways.  
Gomora had barely spoken since they had left the laundromat. He walked about half-a-pace before Niki, his head directed forward, unturning, untalkative. Niki had hardly figured on his host assuming this disposition; quite the opposite, he had assumed otherwise, how Gomora would behave after the accident which had transpired. Likewise, the "walk" which they were taking felt more like a trek: Gomora seemed to know where he was going, but was hardly occupying himself with how Niki felt about it. Niki hadn't hoped for anything at all, and considered that this wasn't any worse than sitting around somewhere, but it bothered him, for whatever reason, that he didn't know what was going on.

He was contemplating second-thoughts when Gomora disappeared around the corner of a building. Niki stepped after him, and found himself facing a truly peculiar building.  
It stood, by itself, on the corner of a spacious boulevard, in front of a much larger, hotel-looking occupation, although nothing in the otherwise-drab and desolate-feeling surrounding could've called attention to itself as this construct achieved. Standing about a hundred feet high, and appearing to be made of polished steel and concrete, the structure was shaped somewhat like a giant igloo, with a large, radial dome comprising its dominant shape. Indeed, it looked so curiously out-of-place that Niki might've thought that a perfect sphere had fallen from space and that it was now halfway buried in the planet's surface. It appeared to shine, despite the lack of sunlight to cause such an effect. He had never seen or heard of such a thing to exist.

"…What is it?", he asked Gomora, hoping that he was looking at whatever Gomora, who had stopped walking, had intended for him to see.

"The best secrets…", began Gomora, eyeing Niki's gaze at the structure.  
"…hardly need to be hidden."

He raised an arm to point at the structure, as though it needed further highlumination.

"This is the last part of the natural planet – a meadow that's been conserved for centuries", he explained.  
"You won't find anything like it anywhere else on the planet."

"…I don't see it, Gomora", said Niki, peering at the dome.

"Well, that's what conservation is all about – it needs to be covered", answered Gomora.  
"So the smog and crap can't get at the plants."

"They have plants in there?"

"Did you know that before humeverters, plants made air?"

"…I think I remember reading that…"

"Well, before the grass and plants and trees were gone, that was the only way to get air. Now, our state-of-the-art, piece-of-crap atmosphere makes it. Gives ya lung infections, if ya breathe too much. But in there…natural photosynthesis."

Gomora lead the way across the street, to what seemed to be the entrance. The door was large and dark, and opened on hinges. Gomora managed to pull it open and lead Niki inside, who had noticed a small plaque-like sign before the door, reading "_The Meadow: 10,600 BGE Undvel settlement, site of Kikuchian market city, site of GE contact_".

"Do a lot of people come here?", he asked, as they stepped into a small, dark corridor.

"Nope", answered Gomora.

"Why not?", asked Niki.

"Hmmm…I guess they find it odd; too different. You can't really go from steel and stone and drab weather to greenery at once, at least not if you've spent your life living in the former. Messes with your senses. I hope that you like it, though."

"Don't we have to pay?"

"Naw – it's a public park, so no. You're just not allowed to dig holes, kick up the dirt, pick more than two flowers, or carve anything into the trees. They got a patrol for that. Here we are…"

They had gotten to the end of the corridor, at which stood another door. Niki was reminded of the entrance to the disco. However, when Gomora pulled open the final door, Niki, even though he searched his memory with hurried, erratic fixation, couldn't think of anything to compare to the sight which shone before him; at the most, an illustration from Jumba's geography class, but nothing which he had seen before, with his own eyes. The colors alone were alien to him.  
Before him stretched a rolling pasture of green. The green was grass. Real grass. Grass, for countless meters, upon a ground which was not concrete or metal. The ground had texture, and body, which rose into small hills. One of these had perched atop it a small enclosure of trees, stretching back in a miniature forest. The wood of the trees had to be real. Niki could smell it. Likewise, the soil beneath the grass was so very pungent to him that he didn't know what to make of it; he was in awe. He had to squint, as to accustom his eyes to what appeared to be, but couldn't possibly be, a bright display of sunshine from overhead.  
From his side, Gomora gave his skinny arm a small push.

"C'mon…the grass doesn't bite…"

Apprehensively, but directed by Gomora, Niki extended his leg carefully over the grass, where it hovered for a moment or two before he leaned forward and brought it down.  
The feeling of the grass beneath his bare feet was sensational: though calloused by two years of walking on nothing but lifeless plastic, metal, and concrete, the little green blades, in their gentle coolness, seemed able to reach right up into his sensory nerves and tickle and thrill him, so he very nearly felt it throughout his entire body. He shivered, but didn't hesitate to bring down his other foot. Gomora followed him.

"It was absolutely crazy for me, the first time I came here", he confessed, shading his eyes with his forearm.  
"You can see just about everything, one way or another, but something like this here…you gotta feel grass to believe it."

"…It's…amazing", said Niki, the need to do so having forced its way from his mouth.

"Yeah – that, and ya don't bust your knees open if ya fall on it", replied Gomora, playfully, giving Niki a small shake by his shoulder.  
"…but ya know what's also pretty nice?"

"…What?"

"Running on it."

With that, Gomora skipped out before Niki, nimbler than Niki had ever experienced him – an odd contrast of black and red against the green of the grass, his earring glinting in the sunlight.

"C'mon, Niki-dude…frolic!", he urged.

Niki felt too overwhelmed to do anything close to frolicking, for being overwhelmed, but he took an apprehensive step forward, and another, and another, following the frolicking Gomora, who looked very silly in his display.

"Breathe, Niki! Breathe!"

He hardly needed Gomora's orders; never before had Niki's nostrils flared as they did now, for the aroma…one could hardly call it an aroma, he thought to himself, but never before had there been so much to smell when there wasn't anything there – no smog, no exhaust fumes, no garbage, no sewage. What he smelled, though it took him a moment to realize it, was everything and nothing. At first, he considered that he had a function that had gone unnoticed until now, because how ever could this be 'natural'? The grass was a sweet, icy perfume upon the soil's hearty pungeance. He could practically smell the trees from afar, and although he didn't recognize the smell of pine, it quickly became one of his favorites.  
The planet had as good as no change in elevations in the city when it came to level ground, so despite that he had merely walked as he followed Gomora up the small hill, by the time he got to the top, he was panting slightly, noticing the very physical difference between the air which had filled his lungs outside of the dome and which he enthusiastically swallowed now.  
From the top of the rolling elevation, he could peer down into the basin of the valley, and was surprised to find a party other than himself and Gomora: though he couldn't tell for sure, they seemed to be a bunch of mixed species, some taller than the others, and were positioned in some apparently-ordered stance, from which they seemed to be engaging in some form of exercise, comprising of slow, wide motions of arms and body, stepping slowly, as though caught in some kind of debilitating dance.

"They're doing tai chi!", came Gomora's voice from behind Niki, as the former Experiment bounded up to his companion.

He stopped behind Gomora, and eyed the group from their perch with his hands at his hips.

"They meet here often to practice and meditate. I still don't know if they're an organized group or if they just show up together."

"Have you ever spoken to them?", asked Niki, who was as new to the concept of tai chi as he was to nature.

Gomora shook his head and answered;  
"Not really – neither tai chi nor meditation really requires a lot of chit-chat. I've practiced with them a few times, but more often than not, I just watch them."

"You know tai chi?"

"Hey, wouldn't ya have guessed?", replied Gomora, striking a pose with an arm extended from his body, the other stroking across it.

"…Do you come here often?"

"Every now and then. It's relaxing, tai chi is. Heh, though you should've seen them when in all that enlightenedness, I just kinda let myself go…"

As he spoke, Gomora released from his lower torso a second set of arms, which protruded tentacle-like from beneath the hem of his tank-top before taking form to mirror his original set, and began to duplicate their motions quite accurately.  
Niki had never seen Gomora do this before, and he couldn't deny that seeing it happen was slightly unnerving. He knew that some Experiments had the ability, but had never seen it operated first-hand. It made him feel odd – squeamish, awed, and slightly outdone, for some reason.  
Gomora, opening his eyes (which had fallen shut in his demonstration), noticed Niki's expression and quickly fell out of pose, likewise retracting his arms as fast as he had released them.

"I'm sorry", he said, somewhat hurriedly, his brow furrowing in the recognizable concern.  
"I didn't mean to…"

"It's alright", said Niki, trying to sound earnest.  
"It's…it's nothing, really…well, I suppose it is, for you to have…to be able to do that…I mean, I can't."

"It's a bit of an empty feature", replied Gomora, after a moment, as he tugged at his shirt's hem.  
"I mean, you'd think I'd be using 'em all the time, but I really don't find myself missing them when I don't use 'em; they make getting a job done a bit convoluted."

"Really?"

"Most jobs are designed for two hands."

Niki nodded, and blinked in the sunlight, its presence being very unfamiliar to him. Gomora shielded his own eyes and turned his head towards the sky.

"You'd think it was real, eh? – the sunlight?", he commented.  
"Still, it's fake. Condensed ultraviolet lights overhead, focused to feel like an actual sun. Look up…you can't even find where it's coming from, and if ya look really carefully, you can make out the separate panels. The blue sky and the fluffy clouds are fake, too."

The younger Experiment's gaze followed his comrade's. The experience was an odd one: the source of the light always seemed to be shining just outside of the corner of his eyes, but search as he might, he couldn't find a sun anywhere among the placid-looking clouds and ocean-blue sky (the expression mentioned in his mind existed solely from having heard the description; he had never seen an ocean, and the planet didn't possess one).  
He found this to be slightly disappointing – everything seemed to be real and legitimate, yet the sun which shone overhead wasn't a sun at all, and the limitless sky was apparently just another ceiling.

"…How do the plants grow?", he asked tentatively, unsure of whether or not he wanted to hear the answer.

"Well, the light pretty much has the same effect as the real deal, and there's a few supplements in the soil, supposedly", answered Gomora, lowering his gaze.  
"Just a bit of gardening."

As his own gaze lowered, Niki found that if he focused, he could make out the walls surrounding their enclosure to some degree – a bit of a task, as they had been so expertly constructed to be unnoticeable and even non-existent, to some extent; indeed, one might've taken to walking towards the horizon without suspecting that there'd eventually come up an unnatural hindrance.  
As Niki's face displayed apparent disappointment, Gomora anxiously tapped his elbow.

"Hey, c'mon…it's not that bad", he told his comrade, trying hard to retain what had appeared to be a positive mood in Niki's experience.  
"I mean…the grass is still real, the air is real, the trees are – the trees! Have you ever been in the shade of a tree, Niki?"

Niki felt himself being taken by the wrist and coerced fiercely towards the small, ovalian wood that lay just a few hundred meters away from where they stood, by a very ecstatic Gomora, who seemed to have gotten ahold of a notion that couldn't be ignored by any means.

"C'mon! C'mon! You'll love this!"

The smaller Experiment figured that, had they not been closer to their destination than they were, Gomora would've lifted him up bodily to hurry the rush towards the highly-anticipated group of pines.  
They sprinted awkwardly across the hills, completely unbeknownst to the devotees in the valley, until finally reaching the wooded perimeter, which was marked by a great shadow cast by the trees – a species of which Niki had never even read about: they were a rather short genus of pine, barely forty-feet tall, with stout, thick-barked trunks, needles which were blunt and stumpy, and thick, grey roots which arched out of the ground frequently, like many colonies of ground-dwellings serpents which had been petrified.  
The aroma of these unswaying, silent occupants hit Niki strongly before they approached, appealing to his nose by way of fascination and adoration: he loved their unceremonial scent, and believed that he would've liked to have gone up to one and sniffed it, had Gomora not been directing him, most zealously.  
The larger Experiment's promise about the transition from direct sunlight to the shade cast by a tree was not without merit: as Gomora pushed Niki from the brightened pasture into a broad smudge of shadow, Niki shivered instantaneously with the immediate coolness which befell him in this new realm.

"Cool, ain't it?", remarked Gomora happily, stepping up next to Niki, as the two of them surveyed the sunlight from the cover of their shadowy cloak.

Niki couldn't help but nod, and as he did, he looked up into the thick bundles of dark needles which grew voluptuously from the tree's many branches. He wondered whether they or the body of the tree made the smell which he loved so much.

"See these?", asked Gomora, striding up to one of the trees; he hopped atop one of its snaking roots and patted its trunk, as though it had personally won him a prize.  
"Kikuchian pine. Very ancient…for this planet, at least. These trees are at least two-thousand years old. Can you believe that? Unpetrified! Only middle-aged, supposedly!"

Nikita observed this information with some interest, while carefully climbing atop one of the roots himself, and placed both of his hand on the trunk. Five or six Experiments might've managed to have formed a ring around its sturdy stem.

"Nice, ain't they?", surveyed Gomora.

"They sure are…", replied Niki.

* * *

Some time later, after a slow, weaving stroll amongst the individual inhabitants of the hill, Gomora and Nikita sat on the edge of the shadow, their heads out of the sun, and watched the tai chi practitioners. The two of them sat a few feet apart from eachother, separated by a small patch of thistly flowers.  
More than once, Niki was sure that he had felt a breeze of wind across his fur, but reminded himself that such 'natural' generation was probably beyond the _Meadow_'s capabilities. Gomora said nothing, while the group in the valley simply went through their motion ceaselessly, occasionally transitioning to where they began to engage in an alternate display, alternating who lead them from time to time by way of a harmonious shifting of reins. Niki thought it truly remarkable how well they existed in their practice.  
He sat forward to shower his face in faux-sunshine, turning his head to watch Gomora pick up and discard an insect which had begun climbing on his pants. 

"Curious lil' crawlies", he remarked, sitting back, supported by his arms.

Niki nodded, and turned his head face back into the sun which wasn't there. Though he tried to dismiss it as he always did, a small voice in his head told him to begin a count-down. He didn't comply so it did it for him; from ten to one. He was telling himself how crazy he was when, from his side, he heard;  
"Niki?"

He turned his head in the ascenting direction.

"Yes, Gomora?"

The larger Experiment's demeanour had changed: gone was his excitement, his smile, his mood to please Niki. What had returned was a sudden uneasiness about him which Nikita failed to explain to himself ("_What have I done, now?_"). How this swing in mood had come about was unapparent, and so surprising was it that Niki felt himself receiving this new Gomora less lightly than he might've any other variant.  
Gomora was looking at his feet, with his legs stretched before him in a leisurely fashion which made his current manner all the more contradictory and out-of-place…at least for this sudden occasion; he looked about himself and twisted a blade of grass around his finger before looking up.

"…How do you feel?", he asked, quietly.

"…Fine", answered Niki, his confusion apparent in his voice.

"Good", said Gomora in return, tearing off the blade of grass and further twiddling it.  
"I was just…well, just wanted to know how…just thought you might…hope you felt…"

He went on for a moment, saying little bits of self-interrupted thoughts while not looking at Niki but at either sides of ground beside him.  
Nikita watched this going on for a while, a slight feeling of something ominous beginning to brim in his chest as Gomora attempted again and again before breaking off, trailing off into silence. Niki was about to break the half-silence by way of inquisition when Gomora finally looked up, into Niki's eyes. He looked very sad.

"…Can I say that I'm sorry?", he asked.

"…Why?", returned Niki, who might've also asked why Gomora was asking permission.

"…Just for making you feel bad", answered the larger Experiment, looking down and then up again.  
"It's been…weighing on my mind a lot. Quite a bit. What I did. I've felt bad about it."

"…What do you mean?"

Gomora faltered on this, opening his mouth, saying nothing, and then closing it again. He pondered the question and its answer for a moment, before seemingly deciding that there was only one acceptable, and it was not an easy one to speak out.

"…Me…telling you that I…liked you, a few days ago."

Gomora looked back to his feet, then at the ground, and again at Niki.

"I…I just need to get it off of my chest…it's been bothering me, that I might've said something direct like that, that might've made you feel uncomfortable…I didn't mean to, and I'm sorry."

Having said this, he sat back, somewhat resolutely, still not looking at Niki, who continued to sit as he had, and digested this small apology.  
He felt confused for a moment, as he didn't find much difference between what Gomora had just said now and what he had said just a few hours ago, in the diner of the mall.  
Obviously, the larger Experiment felt strongly enough about it to iterate it…and, Niki figured, Gomora didn't have to be a genius to figure that his telling his guest that he was attracted to him might have some negative effect on him, and tried to think, in irritable thoughts, why he hadn't apologized before. Was that the sole reason for Gomora bringing him to this place – to get him into a good mood to accept an apology?

Try as he might, a curious buzzing sensation inside his head, present still from the even at the laundromat, kept him from employing his full focus on being ill-inclined towards Gomora. It was an irritable, un-psychological sound…feeling…sensation…presence. Niki attempted to push it out of his consciousness like an unwanted thought, but try as he may, it remained in place, buzzing, which turned into a humming, and seemed aware of its own being inside of his mind.  
Oddly enough, Niki felt no symptom of sickness, dizziness, or nauseousness, eliminating the possibility of a cranial episode like the one at the disco, but further leaving him in the dark about what this presence was cause of, and what it was doing in his head. He didn't like it, but didn't yet feel alarmed.  
Gomora finally raised his eyes to Niki, whom he found gently scratching his head, a thoughtful expression upon his face.

"I'm sorry, Niki", he repeated, softly, leaning slightly to his side, hoping that he had not been overheard by Niki, who might've been pondering something other than his words.  
"…are you alright?"

The smaller, peach-furred Experiment looked up as Gomora spoke, though not at the speaker, but straight ahead, yet at nothing, as though in a severe daydream. He made no sound or further motion, but sat there, as still and as silent as a statue.  
Gomora leaned towards Niki further, his widening in concern at this unexpected behaviour in his comrade.

"Are you alright, Niki?", he repeated.

This time, Niki turned his head about to face Gomora, looking at him…with a curious, surprised expression, as though he had noticed something about his host which had until then gone overlooked by him.

"…Yes…yeah", he finally answered, and the odd expression melted from his face, and he was Niki again.  
"…I'm fine."

He looked down, and Gomora thought him to be contemplating what he had been told.  
When he looked up, he appeared still contemplative, but he opened his mouth slowly to speak.

"…I know you didn't and don't mean any harm, Gomora…", he said slowly, speaking each word as though he were calculating it with careful intricacy.  
"…but you don't need to feel concerned…I'm fine…really."

He didn't exactly look it, Gomora assessed in disappointment – not while he still eyed the ground and spoke as though there were difficulty about it.  
The larger Experiment thought about saying something else, but the overwhelming, uncomfortable feeling that he may have lost the end of the mutual thread which he had found earlier depressed him into closing his mouth. He looked away, as well, and felt a familiar stream of dejection beginning to trickle down his back, as he drew his legs up to his chest, ready to submerge…when something on his shoulder stemmed the trickle with a level of effectiveness that wasn't of unphysical cause. It was warm, soft, and gentle.

He looked to his side, and found Niki's hand on him, resting tenderly, so as it hardly weighed upon his skin.  
He looked to Niki himself, and found him with his head still down, still refusing to look at Gomora, with the expression on his face just as unreadable as before…yet it wasn't the same.  
Gomora opened his mouth, half-heartedly, to say something…but what was to be said if he couldn't understand what was going on?  
There were no words, and likewise, no looks. Hardly any expressions. How Niki had crossed the distance between them to quietly was beyond the silent Gomora, who sat and felt the gentle, surprising warmth of his guest's hand on his shoulder, nearly insignificant in its physical presence, were it not for its significant power of radiation which seemed, at the moment, to act as a magnet, holding the two Experiments together for reasons unknown – alone, at the edge of the trees, unseen by those in the valley below.

* * *

Some time later, Nikita and Gomora arrived back at Gomora's apartment, the freshly-washed bundle of new clothes in-arm. Gomora mentioned that he'd sort the clothes into a few empty drawers of his closet, and disappeared into his room.  
Nikita took a seat on the couch and didn't look at much. He looked around the side of the couch, and found Mel's urn, where he had stored it, securely. He took it into his hands and eyed it single-mindedly, whispering something unheard under his breath before wrapping his arms around it, hugging it tight, sitting in silence, and wondering why…  
For whatever the sensation in his head had been (and what it was at the time, still buzzing in an under-existence inside of his skull), it had been remedied or partially alleviated by his advances towards Gomora… 

Listening to Gomora's voice seemed to suggest this.  
Answering Gomora positively had amplified this.  
Touching him had proved it: the sensation, so irritable, and slowly growing more urgent, had been very much reduced by this.  
Niki didn't know why, or what it was…but, when holding Mel so close to his heart, it didn't make him feel very good.


	26. Saffron Shampoo

(_A/N: welcome, any and all returning readers, to the first chapter of Elisir in about nine months. Countless apologies to everybody who's been waiting for it so long. Please, without further ado, enjoy_...)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 26

* * *

A few days went by. Niki wore his new clothes and enjoyed them. Gomora went about his pandering with a foreseeable manner, which climaxed in a trip to the market and a purchase of raw foods, which were prepared to an appetizing degree for dinner, instead of the microwaveable products which remained crammed in the ice box.  
They spoke on a level which before then was nonexistent, though it was mostly about things which didn't require much stretch of emotion or personality: the city, the food, other planets, celebrities, and a touch of politics. To an even lesser extent (composing mainly of Gomora's insights), life in the lab.Gomora invited Niki to a movie at the local cinema called "_Alone In The House of Rayne_", and afterwards, they discussed financing and tax shelters.  
Their co-existence went on peacefully, from day-to-day, without incident. No questions were asked beyond one's opinion on a menial subject, or the location of some small object around the apartment.  
Niki noticed, however, that neither of them made much of an effort to meet the other's eyes, and it was more than clear that neither of them was making any effort to bring up what had happened in the park, although the relentless buzzing inside of his head forbade Niki any effort to either forget it or think about it too much.

At the moment, Nikita sat on the couch. The television blared in front of him; it had been left on by Gomora before he had gone to get something which he had left in the car. The channel was a cooking show, and Niki was actually beginning to feel hungry. He was considering making a trip to his host's refrigerator when the main door's electronic chime sounded, indicating someone at the threshold. Niki sat up from a reclined position in surprise – Gomora had a key to come in, so he had no reason to ring the doorbell.  
The chime sounded again. Niki slid from the couch and crossed the space to the door.

"Yes?", he asked cautiously, through the door's communication system.

"Delivery for Mister Gomora", came a nasally reply.

Despite finding the title of 'Mister Gomora' funny, Niki found himself at odds whether or not to open the door. Since he had stayed with Gomora, nobody had ever come to the door for him with deliveries…and he had unpleasant thoughts of the way he might overreact if he knew that Niki had opened the door while he was alone in the apartment.

"He's not here", he called back, apprehensively.

The individual behind the door cursed audibly.

"Listen, can you take this for him? It's important."

"…I'm not sure I should", replied Niki, his voice growing quiet, hoping the effect would be mirrored for whoever was behind the door; he wasn't even sure if it'd be his place to ask what the delivery was.  
"Can you wait? – he should be back any minute…"

"I can't push it underneath the door", came the voice again.  
"Please, can't you just take it?"

The Experiment, made wary by Gomora's surefire reprimandation and his own lonesomeness, considered simply telling the deliverer to come back later, but communicating to him over the constant humming in his head, a voice from his subconscious told him to stop being silly; there wasn't anything to worry about, and since he knew better than to argue with his head, Niki obliged and covered the distance to the door, which he opened with a careful touch to the control panel. The door opened, and before him stood a four-foot reptilian character, wearing glasses and a shirt so well-pressed that the few creases in it resembled canyon-like scars.

"Thank you very much", the courier said blandly, sniffing through a swollen nose which extended a few inches before his eyes.

He raised a hand to Niki's eye-level, in which he held a few small sheets of white paper.

"Mister Gomora's residence and bar bills", came the explanation before Niki could ask, upon which it was more less thrust into the Experiment's hands, and the deliverer marched off, sniffling miserably.

Repressing his own memories of being ill on-the-job, Niki watched the employee head down the hallway before he turned back into the apartment, sealing the door behind him. The supposed bill he held in his hand was warm and smelled of xerox, as though it had just been printed a minute ago. It was uncovered – not in an envelope or folder of any kind; he figured that Gomora must always accept his papers like this, if he received them regularly. Not that it seemed professional to deliver notes without some kind of envelope. Perhaps he'd ask Gomora about this when he got back, after he had pointed out the delivery.  
Not wanting to fold the paper, he set it face-down on the glass table before the couch – the table, Niki had noted a few days prior, was looking much cleaner than before, apparently having been scrubbed and the magazines (sans the pornography, which had mysteriously disappeared) now sat stacked with some orderliness to them, with the exception of the newly-arrived copy of the thrash metal magazine "_Edo Garazor_", which was open to the page featuring an interview of the grindcore band Scumclaw about their new album, "_Marinated In Sewage_."

Gomora was taking a while longer than Niki was expecting – within a few minutes, he had not yet returned. This wasn't necessarily a positive thing, as the television program was exceedingly boring to Niki, and he wouldn't have minded some conversation. Shifting around on the couch, he considered leaving the apartment to go and search for Gomora, but he was quick to tell himself that it was silly to worry over a few minutes and that, with his luck, he'd probably miss Gomora returning, and then Gomora would be the one confused and upset.  
Sighing, Niki's gaze fell upon the collection of magazines on the table, and onto the bill. He had no intention of doing anything more than look at its back as it lay type-down on the table…but it turned out that the notes featured typing on both sides of its pages.  
Niki leaned forward, glancing at numbers, and items, and numbers, and items, and numbers…and items…

He blinked, and leaned forth more intently, eyeing the back of the bill and not believing his eyes. Regardless of whether or not there were items of equal cost on the rest of the pages, what Niki saw on the mere caboose of the note was jaw-dropping, enough: the figures were astronomical, as far as he was concerned - there were 250-credit spa visits and 100-credit bar bills for expensive and exotics drinks, 100-credit tips, and 200-credit sunglasses. Niki didn't think he had even made that much money in his life, extortions included.  
Somehow, Niki suddenly felt as though he knew Gomora a lot less than he thought he did. The apartment was one thing, but the only people whom Niki knew to throw around money as apparently was custom to Gomora were certain pop stars. Gomora was hardly a pop star, but there had to be a difference between a well-paying job and a job which enabled one to afford…

"_Saffron shampoo – 800 credits_?"

Now Niki was curious; he'd been content to accept Gomora's elusive job description until now, but the need for a more detailed explanation was now itching in his mind. He'd ask, he decided…as soon as he found an honest way to get around the fact that he'd been looking into his host's private mail.  
His potential scheming was cut short by the sound of the front door opening. Thankful that the paper hadn't come in an envelope, Niki hurriedly set it back onto the table and sat back against the couch as Gomora entered, wearing a sleeveless t-shirt featuring the evil illustrations of Headless Encryption. A rolled-up paper folder was stuffed into his pocket.

"Knew it was in the backseat", he said, placing the article on a commode before approaching the couch.  
"Speaking of which, I met a certain twerp in the hallway – was he just here to deliver something?"

"Was this twerp an ill one?"

"No, he always sounds like that."

"Well, in that case, he brought this here…"

He pointed at the paper on the table, which Gomora took in-hand as he climbed back onto the couch's opposite end, switching the channel before he unfolded it and began studying it while the new television program (an adventure serial) played on.  
Out of the corner of his eye, Niki observed his host, looking for some sign that might indicate that Gomora had found anything out of the ordinary with these transactions. The red Experiment, however, simply observed what was on the paper and set the sheet back onto the table without as much as a concerned expression.

"Just some stuff", he commented, after he had brought his eyes back to the screen.

"Nothing important?", Niki inquired.

"No – it's all covered."

Silence followed. Niki wondered if his level of apprehension was strong enough to be felt by his host. Leaning forward, he pretended to eye an advertisement for rollerslides on the table, but before Gomora could offer to buy them for him, he pretended to catch first sight of a figure on the paper which Gomora had placed, unabashed, on the table.

"…Gomora, what's saffron shampoo?"

"What rich people put on their fur."

"I didn't know you were rich."

"I'm not."

"But the shampoo…?"

"Just felt like pampering myself. My money doesn't work for itself, so I can hardly call myself rich."

Niki nodded, and seeing as Gomora didn't seem too concerned with protecting the figures of the paper, he carefully turned the sheet over with a single finger, re-reading the outrageous sums and pretending to see them for the first time; even though he was acting, and despite reading the paper for the second time, he had to exercise control as to not let his still-fresh surprise show too visibly.

"Whoa…that's a lot of money", he commented, with as much naivety as he could muster without sounding stupid.

Behind him, Gomora nodded, and leaned forward, over his shoulder.

"Well, it doesn't stay put, as you know – but that's why I work."

Niki felt a twinge of irritation as his host's nonchalance remained impenetrable and unchanged; no Experiment, after all, had the bred right to deal with outrageous amounts of money like Gomora did. He made sure to keep his face directed at the paper, lest his less-than-innocent feelings appear crudely upon his face.

"Remind me where you work, Gomora?"

"Diamondsteel plant – 'member?"

"Does everybody who works there make this much money?"

"Ehhh…I don't think so – more grunts than higher-ups, see."

"Are you a higher-up?"

"No, sorry – I don't have a suit to wear."

"Oh."

"And I fuckin' hate caviar."

"Ah-ha."

He was trying to be funny – Niki could tell without seeing his grin. But that didn't mean anything - no, on the contrary, it raised the question of why Gomora was being silly about the situation. After all, it would take less time to just reveal his source of income than to set up a joke, wouldn't it?  
Niki had some thoughts to himself - he wondered for a while whether Gomora was a prostitute…but he shot his own suggestion down within seconds: a guy like Gomora would rob a bank before he'd hook, and besides, Gomora wasn't weak enough for the job, anyway. Not a guy like him. Still, his unanswered suspicions weren't placated as Gomora took the papers into his hands, folded them back up to a size smaller than their original state, and slid them into his pocket.

"I'll deal with it later", he said, dismissively, settling himself back against the couch.  
"It's nothing important."

They went back to watching television with something of a forced countenance between them, and the smaller Experiment felt it and knew it. He wondered whether Gomora felt it, too, and wondered just how much of an actor his host was - hiding things, avoiding certain subjects. Nikita felt the aforementioned twinge of irritation turn into annoyance. He slid off of the couch and excused himself to use the restroom.  
He entered the room to vent his frustration. Among the cyclopean sink, shower, and toilet (which especially gave him trouble, and which he reserved to use only in the most dire of needs), he brooded angrily on the red Experiment's reluctance on certain matters. After all, for somebody who was left alone while Gomora attended to his unspecified job, didn't he have a right to know at least where he was always disappearing to? For somebody who had asked him to stay, for no reason other than a forced companionship, didn't Gomora feel as though his guest deserved to know for what he left him for, every once in a while? What kind of a host could justify this amount of secrecy towards a guest whom he had gone as far as to claim feelings for?

He sat down heavily on the raised edge of the shower, flustered. How rude of Gomora. What an idiot. Wasn't he, Niki, even worth telling these things to? On second thought, he probably was a hooker; all those muscles and the sword and the music didn't mean anything – he might still do it while nobody else was watching. Gomora would.  
Nikita brooded in aggression for a while, his hands squeezing his knees as he thought about what a jerk Gomora was. He sat there for longer than was necessary for most trips to the bathroom, and didn't care what Gomora would think - the hooker.

Repeated emphasis on the idea settled him, though: he realized that the idea was far from probable, and thus returned to his central complaint: secrecy, and Gomora not being as truthful as he may be. It was still an angering thought, but the voice within his head overrode it by mentioning a tact of secrecy a little closer to home…  
Niki knew he hadn't lied about anything, or even avoided the truth about something Gomora had ever asked him. True, Gomora hadn't asked about too much in Niki's life, but the younger Experiment cooled down as he began to ponder whether or not he would avoid telling his host about his own past, should he ever be asked. He had no idea how he would respond – probably not with the truth, if it would be told, but perhaps with the same aversion to the answer. Maybe even an outright lie. Niki knew that Gomora enjoyed to spin tales about endeavors which supposedly happened prior in his life (seducing popstars, and of the sort), but…was telling tales about something that wasn't real any different from a real-life experience that you didn't tell anybody about?

Suddenly, he felt increasingly wrong and insincere about his anger. Not that he might have misplaced it, but that being angry may be exceedingly hypocritical…at least at this point.  
Niki started to wonder what he had meant with his last thought, but didn't bother for too long – he had begun to feel a bit silly sitting around the bathroom.

* * *

Though he didn't necessarily show it, Gomora sat on the couch in a state of total anxiety. There was no way that Nikita could know anything at all about the piece of paper he had intercepted other than what he had read, but the thought of it troubled the older Experiment to no end. He knew it was on Nikita's mind – he had felt the mechanics of his guest's head churning as they both had sat in silence, pretending to watch television. Nikita suspected something, and he didn't just go to the bathroom to use it – he had to be pondering the matter behind the closed door.  
Half-baked explanations and excuses raced through Gomora's head, but he knew that Nikita was too intelligent to be turned by such means. Gomora's eyes slid from the screen and drifted out of focus as he fought the urge to place his knuckles against his forehead in frustration.

"_Why the hell did I forget the damn papers in the car?_"

In the corner of his eye, he saw the bathroom door open, but before Niki could step back into the living room, Gomora had reset a less-questionable expression on his face.

"Feeling better?", asked the crimson host with a playful chuckle.

His guest nodded, remembering only now that he had not flushed the toilet to plausify his excuse.

"…Yeah."

Nikita came to a stop before the glass table. He turned his head to Gomora, and eyed the television. Gomora's fluency in reading body-language made it no secret to him that Niki was only putting off a short moment to question or mention something more-than-trivial to him. He braced himself for the worst, though he didn't show this as Niki turned back to his face him.

"Gomora…I want to go back to the club."

His relief, surprise, and utter bewilderment, Gomora figured, must've made for one very interesting expression that he was afraid he was none too successful in covering up; he hoped that his comrade wouldn't concern himself with what he thought the larger Experiment had been expecting him to say.

"…Oh-!", he finally managed, reworking his posture out of his previous cramped slouch.  
"The club…yeah, sure!...but why?"

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, and looking a bit uncomfortable of whatever he was thinking, Niki fumbled for the right answer;  
"Well…um…I thought I'd…you…did you ever…talk to those two girls who were serving drinks there?"

"Luna and Sula?", replied Gomora.  
"…No, I didn't. But Argo might've let them know that you're okay."

Niki didn't look satisfied.

"Luna was pretty upset about what happened…"

"Yeah, but…well, that's her. Can't really blame her for bein' upset."

"You yelled at her pretty loud…"

Gomora didn't reply to this - before he could think of something to say, Nikita went on;  
"I want to go back there, and let them know I'm okay – so she doesn't have to worry anymore. …I feel like a ruined the evening for a lot of people, that night…", he added, looking ashamed.

"That wasn't your fault!", Gomora replied, quick to find the words this time.  
"And besides, if anybody ruined the evening, it was me – making a fool of myself, like you said."

"I didn't say that…"

The exchange died down for a moment or two, and the dialogue of the television program's characters took the floor;  
"…_not that it matters, but I should've known before._ _Now, they're all going to get away, with what belongs to us! – Don't be discouraged; they're too large in numbers to get too much of a head start. We could beat them to the Numbcheney, if only we find another cruiser small enough to pass them… - Did somebody mention small cruisers?!_"

"…That'd be okay", Gomora concluded, after the moment of silence.  
"If you wanted to, that'd be just fine."

"Thank you", Nikita replied, quietly, and continued to stand before the table for a few seconds, awkwardly, before resuming his seat on the forgiving couch.  
"Umm…when'd we be going?"

"Tomorrow", answered Gomora, who was already considering how he was going to survive an evening in the same building with a certain angry bargirl.  
"Argo and Aries will be there tomorrow, and…yeah; best to have somebody big to put between us and…"

Not naïve at all, Niki didn't need Gomora to finish his statement to catch the meaning of his concern.

* * *

"Either it's a down-day for the church of the all-nosy shrews, or Zeph's been busy tonight", commented Gomora as he and Nikita stepped over the threshold of _Nebular's_ and into the club, where "trance hour" appeared to be in full swing.

The tables along the side of the floor had somehow been raised at least a dozen feet off of the ground, and poles seemed to have extended from their centers, which were being gripped and used as dancing aides to the one or more party-goers that occupied each tabletop. Everybody, it seemed, was wearing some sort of reflective apparel in the blue laser lights, and everybody who wasn't on a table, it seemed, was occupying the dance floor. Nebular's top-box was bouncing up and down. Several guys had their shirts off. Even some girls were topless, alongside their dancing partners.  
Before he even stepped onto the glass-tiled floor, Niki began having some reservations – few things, after all, could prepare him for something like this.  
Yet he took comfort in being able to stick close to Gomora, whom he could at least put between himself and anything as loud as a dancefloor. Not that Gomora appeared any less raucous than the collective group on the floor – adorned in a black, red-dyed muscle shirt (embossed with the slogan "Hairy & Scary") and bright-orange slacks (not to mention reflective cufflinks), he looked rightly ready to jump into that dazzling, sweaty crowd. He certainly seemed entertained by it.

"Looks like we arrived just in time, huh?", he shouted in Niki's ear over the noise of the music and the crowd, even managing to drown out the ceaseless buzzing in Niki's head.

The smaller Experiment pulled his arms close to him in response, feeling more than a bit insecure in the midst of this environment – this amount of noise just didn't agree with him. On top of that, Gomora had somehow convinced him not to revolt against the idea of wearing a fairly low-cut, short-sleeved shirt of a bright lavender color, and a pair of lined, green denims; he had insisted that both of these articles had been among those he had purchased for him at the mall, but Niki was adamant in his belief that he had never hoped to look as flashy as he did now, and that this particular section of his wardrobe was not acquired in his own knowing. He had insisted that he at least wear a small jacket over the very questionable attire.  
On the bright side, he figured it would help him remain as inconspicuous as he could be in the club, for aside from delivering his intended reassurances to Luna, Sula, and possibly the DJ, he hoped not to be the center of attention on this specific night - he'd be happy to remain in the background, and was pleased that Gomora kept both of them far away from the dancefloor: they remained standing against the wall, next to the exit, and watched the action from there. There was, after all, no reason to have a seat, as the tables were still all occupied and up in the air. Instead, both of them watched a shirtless Luik embrace his rather furry dancing partner and pull him into a kiss, which he accepted with gusto, wrapping an arm around the Luik's moist back and sliding his spare paw beneath the hem of his pants…

Before they could go much further, however, the song ended with an electronic _bang_ and the conventional lights blasted on. The couple wasn't the only one that untangled amidst the sweaty mass of flesh and fur and scales, as a small cheer went up from the crowd, apparently directed at DJ Nebular, who was wiping his brow and pulling his phones off of his ears as his box feebly fell back to its docking port.

"_Ah, don't you just love a nice remix?_", he commented over the microphone.  
"_Okay, let's cool down just a bit_…"

A considerable amount of the crowd vacated the dancefloor as a slightly quieter track began, dispersing towards either the bar, the tables, or the loft. Gomora nudged a bemused Niki in the shoulder, and the pair moved towards the table they had occupied during their last visit. They arrived just as the table-top reached its regular altitude, and off of it jumped three giggling bird-like boys who immediately headed for the bar.

"They didn't even ask, you know", came the unmistakable,, volcanic voice of Argo over the cacophony of other voices, as the bluish-grey giant – unmistakable by way of his unparalleled form and glowing red eye – made his way over to the seated pair of Experiments, Aries the Dragon in-hand.  
"Just came right up to the table and hopped on it when the poles came up."

The massive shorca retrieved a jacket that he had left at his seat and pulled it over his moistened white tank-top before having a seat. Next to him scooted Aries, who looked quite tired out, with messy hair and a sleeveless "Save The Trees" shirt, and gave a nod of ascent as he leaned wearily against the back of the booth.

"Yup, they sure did", he said to the ceiling as he leaned his head back.

"Didn't look like it bothered either of you two – never thought you'd be dancing down there, Argo", replied Gomora as he adjusted his and Niki's seat to the optimum altitude.

The mountainous medic broke into an unabashed grin as he sought his mate's hand with his own, and placed both of their wrists on the table.

"Oh, I have this lil' cutie to thank for that", he insisted, gazing affectionately at the bushed Dragon.  
"Told me that if I loved him, I'd get on the floor with him."

"Mmm…and he loves me a whole lot", murred Aries, his eyes half-open as he leaned his head against Argo's shoulder.  
"Moved more than I've ever seen him…well, at _some timesss_…"

He uttered the last word with a playful hiss, and Argo chuckled as he placed the arm around his shoulders.  
Gomora scanned the vicinity of the bar and dancefloor as Aries pressed a kiss against Argo's jaw, while Niki remained unsure of where to look or whom to watch.

"Are Luna and Sula around?", Gomora asked, looking back at the couple across the table, both of who immediately opened their eyes to their friend in some surprise.

"…Yeah, they're both here – they're up on the loft", Argo was first to reply.

"But why you wanna see them?", Aries posed.  
"I don't think they want to see you…'least not you, Gomora, but they think your boyfriend's cute…"

Gomora started to stammer, but was quick to bring himself back to the original inquiry, while Nikita's shade of pinkish-peach turned as crimson as Gomora's fur;  
"_That's_-…well, we wanted t'talk to them about that. I wanted to apologize for yelling at them…and Niki wanted to apologize for not tolerating the drink he was given."

Aries found something funny about this and sniggered, but Argo's brow furrowed sympathetically as he turned his gaze on Niki. Blinking while his electronic eye remained stationary.

"Nikita…you shouldn't think you need to apologize for what happened – it wasn't your fault at all. Everybody who was here knows that."

"…Just wanted to let them know that I'm okay – I don't want them worrying", replied Niki, slinking back against his seat.

The shorca nodded. He gave Aries a small shake ("Hush – it's not funny") before indicating towards the loft, turning his head slightly, so that Niki caught sight of the case of his electronic eye against his right temple.

"Well, they'll probably be down in a few minutes, and then you can-"

"Oh, I don't think I can wait for that, big guy", interrupted the crimson Experiment, shaking his head with a nervous smile as he began to slide off of his seat, urging Niki to follow him.  
"If Sula's still hot about it, I figure I'll save my reputation if not too many see what she'll do to me."

Both Aries and Argo chuckled, and Argo replied;  
"Oh, nobody will see you being thrown from the loft onto the floor, Gomora?"

"Well, at least there's a doctor in the house, huh?"

With that, and both Experiments on the floor, Gomora began to lead his younger guest around the length of the dancefloor, past the tables and the doors to the 'privacy rooms', and around the floor's edge to the stairs to the loft. They passed a sole reptilian character as they ascended the steps – four or five meters to the top.

"What happened to Argo's eye?", Niki asked Gomora as they neared the top.

"Long story", replied the larger Experiment, hurriedly, with obviously other things on his mind.  
"Not my place to say. Maybe he'll tell you, some time."

They reached the top without another word. The loft was a far less raucous place than Nikita had imagined – it looked almost like an entirely different club, made up of a den-like space in which stood a number of smaller tables and couches. There weren't nearly as many occupants on this level, it seemed – barely a dozen, and none taller than six or seven feet. They lounged about, some of them smoking, and some of them sipping drinks from delicate-looking glasses…which, Niki made out, were largely being served from large, silver trays by the distinctive Luna and Sula.  
DJ Nebular's topbox stood some ways off to the center of the railing. The club-owner, his hair as prominent as before, and wearing a yellow t-shirt, looked content to enjoy a slow period after the rave: nearly slumped over on his control deck, he reached down into what appeared to be a rack of audio cassettes when he caught sight of the pair of Experiments standing at the stair's edge. He smiled in surprise, and wordlessly waved them over. He pulled his headphones from around his neck and set them on the deck as the pair approached.

"Glad to see you're feeling better", he said to Nikita.  
"Almost as glad that you didn't sue my club…or am I speaking too soon?"

He was sincere, Niki could tell, about what he said, as well as his humor, but he was pretty tired as well. But it was a good kind of tired, Niki noted – tired from an honest job. Without even knowing the meaning of it, Niki could see that DJ Nebular loved his job.

"I'm fine, thank you", he replied with a small nod.

Nebular held out a hand to Niki, who noticed a band on his wrist embroidered with "_WyBreak_ _YesterYear_" as he took it. Nebular's grip was fairly limp.

"Call me Nebular. Or Neb", he said, giving a small shake.  
"Then again, you probably already figured that. Tell you what – you can call me Cat. Not everybody gets to call me that. I'm sorry about what happened a few nights ago."

"Don't worry about it…Cat."

"'Cat Nebular'?", repeated Gomora – the DJ's first name a legitimate surprise to him.

"Don't you call me that", said the DJ as he retracted his hand.  
"Only your roomie's entitled to that."

He grinned softly at the statement and leaned back against the shell of his topbox.

"So what brings you two fine fellas up to my lounging lair? – you don't look like wine-drinkers."

Gomora inclined his head towards the reclining area and replied;  
"We both wanted to have a word with Luna and Sula – figured we'd try to save a relationship."

Cat Nebular gazed over his customers in the loft. He nodded, and reached back into his box to pull out a pre-opened can of some liquid which he took a sip from.

"That's a good idea, Gom'. Luna's still gets upset when I mention it. Sula-girl is hatin' your guts, though, Gomy – you might wanna go in with a chair and a whip. Not that that'd stop her if she decided to get after you."

"I'll take my chances", said Gomora with a nervous laugh.  
"C'mon, Niki – you see about Luna, I'll go…"

He trailed off, and likewise moved off onto the light crowd of the loft. Nikita and Nebular watched him go. Nebular had a sip from his drink and nodded to Niki.

"You up to it?"

"I think so."

"Get ready for tears."

"_Oh! _Niki! _Niki! Niki!__"_

There came a crash from behind, the shattering of breaking glass, and a moment later, Nikita felt himself being hugged desperately against what he knew were a pair of sizeable breasts, as Luna the Luik, on her knees, sobbed into his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry!", she wailed.  
"I didn't know! I didn't mean to make you drunk! I only thought you'd like an _XD_ because other people did! I promise I'll never give you an _XD_ again! Never, never!"

Niki's face was burning redder than he had ever known it to, and he wasn't sure whether it was because it seemed he was once again the center of attention…or because there were a set of boobs up against his shoulders. DJ Nebular looked as though he was making an effort not to laugh, with his mouth pulled into a combination smile-grimace. Nonetheless, he lowered himself down to his knees and gently attempted to pry the female Luik off of the small Experiment.

"Luna, Luna…", he said, soothingly.  
"Don't smother him…he's not angry at you, hun."

"Honestly!", Niki enforced, as she was finally brought off of him, and he was able to turn around to face her.

Her face already tear-stricken from barely twelve seconds of crying, The tray of drinks which she had dropped when she had spotted Niki was about a dozen feet behind her. She remained on her knees as she attempted to control the sobs that were shaking her entire luminous body.

"Oh, Niki…I'm so sorry - that was your first night at the club, and I ruined it for you…"

"I'm okay!", insisted, Nikita, reaching out his hands (apprehensively at first) to place them on Luna's bare shoulders (she was wearing a lime-colored top and silver highwater pants).  
"I came to tell you that - I'm okay!...it didn't hurt me at all!"

Luna sniffed, and accepted a tissue that Nebular pressed on her to dab her face with.

"I just thought…I had poisoned you", she mewed, quietly.  
"Gomora was so mad, I thought I must've killed you. They told me you were okay, but I was so afraid. I thought I'd be fired…"

"Oh no – you'd need to do in at least three of my customers before I did that", chuckled Nebular, and before she could reply, had hoisted her to her feet, so that both of them towered over Niki again.

"I know", she said, drying her eyes.  
"But Niki's…just so small and fluffy, and I thought I hurt him…oh Niki, I'm so sorry; I really should've brought you exactly what you'd ordered."

"It's okay…it's okay", he said again, glad to see her less hysterical than she was; he motioned towards the try and broken glasses on the floor behind her, in an attempt to lighten the situation.  
"…I thought you didn't usually serve people here like that?"

"Oh…it was Nebby's idea", replied Luna, blowing her nose delicately before handing the tissue back to the DJ.  
"He thought it'd help service up here…and he was right – there's more folks here now than ever. Sula's not to happy about it…where is she, anyway?"

She looked around, suddenly free from all tears.

"I drop a tray, and she doesn't even notice it? Where is that woman?"

"Oh, I think she's plenty busy for the moment…I'm surprised we can't hear her, though…", replied Nebular, looking around the loft for signs of a struggle.

"Huh? What do you mean?", asked Luna, before leaning down to Nikita.  
"What's he talking about?"

"Oh! – there they are!...and Gomora's still standing!", exclaimed Nebular suddenly, indicating towards the far end of the loft, from which were approaching, both looking calm enough but slightly tense, the scaly Sula and an abashed-looking Gomora.

The frequenters at the tables and in the couches finally took their concerns off of the gathering near the DJ's booth that had begun with the falling tray and the wailing Luna, and returned to sipping "O'q'n'deoui" as the Experiment and the serpentine female joined the congregation.

"Apology accepted, Nikita", said Sula, before anything else.  
"But please accept my apology for wanting to kill your roommate for the last week. He just managed to talk me out of it."

"Uh…sure, yes", Niki was quick to respond, not really knowing what else to say.

Gomora certainly looked worn as he took a stance next to Niki; he rubbed his head, and tried to manage a smile, but flinched as Sula addressed him sharply;  
"Got something to say, fuzzy?"

He raised a shifty eyebrow to Sula before raising his entire head to Luna.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you", he said, somewhat softly.  
"…Wasn't your fault, and I won't do it again."

The blonde Luik swooped down upon him, and amidst quite a bit of surprise, hugged him around his neck and kissed him on his furry, fiery cheek.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Gomy", she insisted, before placing an arm around Sula's waist and playfully patted her hand.  
"Suly, you didn't hurt him, did you?"

Nebular yawned as the two ladies began conversing, and Gomora leaned lightly against Nikita's shoulder, emitting a soft groan. The DJ glanced at a watch that was attached to his belt, and made a motion towards the taller of the two pairs in front of him.

"Luna? Sula?...please clean up that mess before somebody hurts themselves…", he advised, before turning towards Gomora and his guest and adding;  
"You two might wanna take a trip back downstairs – you'll know why. Go on."

He saw them off with a tired shooing motion, and the two Experiments headed towards the stairs, stepping over the mess of glass and wine on the floor, to which Sula and her girlfriend attended to the next moment.

"That went well, huh?", Niki said with a small chuckle as they began to descend the steps.

Gomora gave Niki a bit of a morbid look, and shook his head.

"Could've been worse, I guess…"

"What did she have to say?"

"Oh, don't ask…but I'm gonna need a drink or something. Luna needs to clean up and tend to me…"

They had made their way down the stairs and about halfway across the dancefloor when the lights dimmed. Gomora reached back and took Niki by the wrist and quickened their pace, but they were unable to beat the voice of the DJ, sounding suddenly vitalized and deep, spoke over the club sound-system;  
"_All you couples, on the floor…I got a romantic one for all of ya_…"

Before the pair of Experiments, there came a flood of bodies and legs, as seemingly most of the club rose from the tables and hurried onto the lighted tiles of the dance area. Pushed by the onslaught of eager couples, Nikita and Gomora had to fight to keep from being knocked onto their backs, and very much against their wills, quickly found themselves walled in, in the center of the dancefloor, the glass tiles of which were flickering into a mellow shade. Gomora angrily tapped the knees of a larger character in front of him.

"Hey! – give us some room, huh?"

But he was left without an response – a chord of music was struck over the sound system, and the eyes of the creature whom Gomora has addressed turn soft and affectionate as he eyed his equally-large partner, whose hands he gently took into his own, and the two began to sway to the sweet-sounding ballad that had begun to play.  
Nikita looked up, and all around him, as couples embraced and began moving to the tune of song, whose first vocals gently cooed;  
"_I saw you walkin' down the street, waaays back…didn't know how someone like you, could be alooone_…"

Couples held hands. They hugged. And kissed. Niki saw the faces of those in love. The constant buzzing inside of his head was momentarily alleviated as he sighed softly, caught up amidst the strong emotions of those who crowded him and Gomora, yet left him feeling as though he were the only creature left on the planet – alone.  
He wondered if he really had ever known what it was like to touch someone else…like that: tenderly, lovingly, with awe and affection, and be touched like that in return. Had anybody ever really looked at him like that? – as though he were the only important thing in all of the universe? Had he ever wanted anybody as much as these couples around him seemed to want eachother?  
Before him, a vest-wearing nvyian leaned his face in close to his partner's - another nvyian - and gently pressed his lips against those of his partner. They smiled softly at eachother, and gently stroked up and down eachother's backs.

Niki sighed again. Memories of being with Mel, especially those of their last hours together, seemed an eternity away – almost dream-like in their wavering consistency, made incoherent by the very sure fact that he would never be able to relive them again. These memories, as he stood among the affections of the dancefloor, were cruel: he could only see his lover through his mind's eye – an image so beautiful, so worth living and dying for, that it hardly seemed real, anymore.  
He felt so very unloved – because the one who had loved him would never say those words to him ever again.

"Niki?"

Nikita turned. There was Gomora, still only inches away from him, but all of the irritation and tension of the confrontation with Sula and being trapped by a forest of legs seemed to have lifted from his face. He was looking very tender. Emotional. Open.

"Would…would you like to dance with me?"

The peach-furred Experiment wouldn't have known whether to call the request uncalled for or unfair even if he had the time to think about it. His intuition was to reject it, and to know for sure that he didn't want to dance with Gomora…but that didn't seem the case: something in his head was cooing to him that it was alright to do so - to dance with Gomora. There was, after all, no harm in it. Nothing to be lost. And there was nothing better to do amidst the trappings of the rest of the partiers.  
Rather than consider his complicated emotions, Nikita nodded gently, and let Gomora step carefully towards him.  
Neither of them, it seemed, knew where to start, and it was only after a few half-hearted attempt to take the other's hands or arms that they finally agreed upon lightly laying their hands on their hips and shoulders – Gomora's hands on Nikita's hips, who put his palms upon Gomora's shoulders.

There was nothing bad about it, Niki told himself again and again, as the two of them began to sway slowly, uneasily to the ballad, which was slowly rising: after all, they both generally agreed they had a hormonal liking for guys over females, so there was nothing wrong with the idea of two guys dancing together, even if one of those guys was himself. They had to do something, it seemed, other than stand around and wait for the song to be over, and trudge back to their seats. And how discomfited would it have been if he had refused Gomora, and they would've just stood there while everybody else danced? Pretty embarrassing, Niki figured, as he glanced from Gomora's well-sculpted chest, to his at-a-distance face, and away from him entirely.

"Umm….you look really good tonight…", he heard Gomora say quietly to him, as they swayed.

"…Thanks…", he replied, even more quietly, as he watched their feet.  
"…Do you like this song?"

"Yeah…it's pretty good"

"…I thought you didn't like this kind of music…"

"Hmm?"

"Well…I though you only liked…heavier stuff…"

"S'not the only kind of music I like…"

The song reached its bridge, and Niki raised his eyes to Gomora's; he found, for the first time, that behind their black, layered opulence, they had a brown tinge to them. He might've figured the idea odd – to be looking at Gomora's eyes, while a huge couple behind them nearly tripped over their own feet and crushed them both. Neither of the two Experiments, however, took notice of this, as they subconsciously took the rhythm of the song into their steps, continually losing political awareness of the way they were touching eachother.

"_Hey…look up here, a second_", came Nebular's voice over the speaker system.

Little had Niki realized that he and Gomora were positioned almost directly underneath the DJ's box. Niki looked up at Cat Nebular…and if he wasn't very mistaken, found him looking directly at him, with an odd sort of grin on his face.

"_Oh...sorry, never mind_", he saw his lips form, as his voice was magnified over the speakers.

Nebular smiled, somewhat humbled at the crowd, but proceeded to wink…an action which, Niki was sure, again, was directed at him.  
He turned his head back to Gomora – and whether by accident or by a brilliant plan of baiting and positioning by the DJ and him, Gomora's and Nikita's lip met.  
It was only for a prolonged instant, for as soon as he realized what was going on, Nikita had pulled his face away from Gomora's with a terrified gasp, and stared wordlessly at the Experiment he was dancing with. Be it the situation or something else, he found himself unable to read Gomora's face – somewhere between extreme surprise at his own actions and a kind of quiet achievement Gomora's emotions seemed to stand, leaving Nikita without any idea of how to react. He tried to speak, but no words came out of his mouth – he didn't know what to say. The kiss had been just as surreal as he had always imagined it would be.

The buzzing was alive in his head again, and was growing sharply in intensity. It almost hurt. He might've cried out in anguish had Gomora not been there to lean against. Telling himself again and again that it was purely an instinct of survival - one of the few things inside of him that was functioning properly - he slowly leaned against Gomora's chest. He didn't look at his face, but he placed his head against one of his powerful shoulders, keeping his eyes wide open at everything else.  
It helped – the buzzing was subsiding, and not coming back. He felt Gomora's arms across his back – slowly, awkwardly. What was Gomora thinking? – was he happy about this unexpected turn, the subsequencies of which he couldn't see? Was he as surprised as Niki was?  
Why was he considering Gomora's thoughts? Did it even matter what Gomora thought?

Not for now, at least, Niki told himself. For the innocent reason of completing the picture, he placed his arms around Gomora's lower back, and wondered what the two of them looked like, still swaying, but in eachother's arms as though they cared this much for eachother.  
He would worry about it later, and would ask Gomora (with much irritation and fury, he promised himself) what he had meant by that kiss, and assure him that this embrace meant absolutely nothing: he was only playing along to make his head stop hurting. It was as simple as that.


	27. A King's Monsters

(A/N: _dear reader, welcome to chapter 27. Several entities encountered in this chapter will not be seen again in this story, but they're necessary for the continuation of the plot. I hope I made a wise choice in including them...and I hope this chapter doesn't seem too slipshod. Anybody who's further interested in said characters should check out my "_Before Perfection_" story for a bit of background. Please read on..._)

* * *

Elisir  
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 27

* * *

Beneath the possessive eyes of the Galactic Alliance lies a small, murky sector of space that isn't patrolled as frequently as others. Why this is a fact is unsure – the Alliance knew the boundaries of its territories and kept them well patrolled, and this certain smidgen of the vast expanse of galaxy was undisputedly under its control. However, when the eyes of the Alliance linger on other, brighter locations of its empire, location Q-9001 in quadrant 12-3 (aptly named "the Blind Spot" by some) becomes a place of shady encounters and untold happenings. Dark deals had been struck there between corrupt Alliance officials. Pirates and smugglers docked their ships on the floating heaps of debris that told of awesome battles between ruffians and cutthroats that had frequented the Blind Spot before them. The silence of space never reiterated the negotiations, promises, heresies, treasons, threats, and cries that had been uttered here.  
So it might come as no surprise that the latest visitor to this deserted, yet never-lonely portion of the cosmos was Perentilian gangster Ude Nova – a name that had been known only to his late mother, his deceased brother, and his long-dead grandmother (he had never met his father) - but identified in his home system only as "LeFay".

LeFay had ceased aspirations for a steady position at his grandmother's dwindling diamondsteel plant before he was out of his adolescence, in exchange for performing shady small jobs in the local underground; this largely burned the only bridge he had, for as both a Perentil and a son of a drifting mother, his grandmother's plant was the only honest employment he might have hoped for. The Perentil population of the planet, at the time, was meek and frowned upon, and ridiculed as beggars and dirty hands-for-hire. Most lived on the streets.  
Just before he reached adulthood, LeFay fell in with a small group of smugglers that based their operations in the depths of the backwater planet, from where they would travel between the surrounding systems to transfer illegal drugs, weapons, and illegal slaves. For about five years, Ude "LeFay" Nova disappeared completely, while life around the planet went about as it always had – tragically, treacherously.  
Then, about seven years ago, a new LeFay emerged from the pits of the underground: gone was the unkempt, illiterate, and timid Perentil boy, replaced by a calm, self-assured, and utterly dominating figure that stood in a four-foot frame. Suave and enticing, he was the leader of the same group of smugglers he had joined years ago (although it was rumored that he had not spent all of those lost years within the same party).  
Hungry for power, he turned his ambitions on the only franchises he knew – the drug, prostitution, gambling, and weapons-dealing circles of his home sector. The local underground bosses were quickly overwhelmed, and often caught by surprise by this small, queer-looking figure who preferred semiautomatic weapons to plasma guns. They all fell in quick succession, their collective positions taken over by a character who seemed to know no limitations when it came to getting what he wanted.  
Within a year, he either owned all of the brothels and dealerships in the planetary quadrant, or their owners had pledged fealty to him, and his forces of hired gunman and mercenaries willing to settle down for the wages he was offering had grown by leaps and bounds.

A few years into this, LeFay's attention - moved by pity or by other means - turned to the population of his own kind on the planet, many of which had been in some way adversely affected by his forceful ministrations on his certain part of the city. In a move fueled by either compassion or political strategy, LeFay began a movement to raise the sickly and humiliated Perentils from the city's street: he offered preferential aid by invading local hospitals, and bought up much of the lower-class housing to provide affordable homes to the Perentils who made little or nothing. He pressured local employers to search out Perentils and offer them jobs with heightened salaries…and if they refused, he would have them killed (or at least had their fingers cut off), and returned the following day to pose the same demand to the new owner.  
In a monumental move, he purchased, and - over a course of several months - completely revitalized his now-deceased grandmother's diamondsteel plant, paying for all sorts of renovations and updated machinery and equipment, and striking up business deals with all sorts of interstellar buyers to turn it into the primary employer of Perentils in the area. This alone seemed to ordain the Perentilian population, allowing the lot of them to rise through the ranks of the oppressive society to a position unthinkable before the come of "the great LeFay", whose name was now known throughout a quarter of the planet.

* * *

LeFay's cruiser – a smaller passenger flyer – drifted seemingly at random inbetween the great hunks of debris while he sat behind the pilot's seat, eyeing nervously what was beyond the pilot's screen and chewing the nail of his index finger with his thick front teeth; it had been approximately two years since he had last chewed his nails.

"No sign of 'em, boss", reported the pilot from in front of him.  
"No signals, either. I don't think they're showin'."

LeFay didn't reply – he was wishing that this really was the case.  
It had taken them (LeFay, two pilots, and two of LeFay's bodyguards) about three days to pass undetected underneath the prying eyes of the Alliance's customs and into this forbidden sector. It might've been bearable for the professional driver and escorts, but for LeFay, it was maddening. He felt the urge to jump out of his seat and jockey the pilot to turn the ship back around and head away at hyperspeed. Having to sit there and try to contain his sheer anguish was more difficult than trying to look comfortable with a bladder infection. After all, he knew better than the pilot – _they_ _were_ there.  
And a moment later, everybody else in the ship knew it, as well.  
It started with the jolting, signature beep from the radar screen that gave LeFay enough reason to wet his pants. He sunk so far back into his chair that there was enough room for the accompanying guards (who had, all this time, been occupying the co-pilot's seat and the seat behind it) to poke their heads into the vicinity of the controls. LeFay saw the heads of all of his crew decline to peer down at the radar's screen at the sudden appearance of some very-near object that had not been there but two seconds before…but a moment later, they all rose again, eyes widening as they saw, though the glass of the cockpit, _it_'s emergence.  
As its cloaking device lifted, a monster appeared before their ship – some gnarled, horrid crustacean of cyclopean proportions. Vaguely pyramid-shaped, its pupil-less eyes a poisonous, illuminated shade of green, its shell the color of dried blood, the enormous space monstrosity unfolded before the paralyzed crew, in their stationary ship, and extended two jagged, bony claws, seizing their small cruiser with the ease of picking up a pebble between two fingers.

"_It's only a ship…it's only a ship_…", LeFay promised himself again and again, the tip of his thumb set firmly between his teeth.

It was indeed only a ship: a cloaked warship that was small by the standards of its makers, and its "claws" were the binding apparatus that would prepare both ships for boarding capabilities.  
Such a realization should have come as a relief to the crew of the Perentillian cruiser, but no such optimism availed – only the truly foolish among them would have foregone a fight with a dozen space monsters, if it had meant they would not have to confront those who were inside of the giant craft.

* * *

When his mother died about three years ago, and his brother and he had worked out a system in which he (his brother) would be paid to stay out of the way, LeFay had set his eyes on a contract with the Galactic Alliance. He didn't tell anybody – it was way too speculatory to dispel, yet - however, to have connections with the manufacturers who made the supplies and constructs for the Federation was possibly the greatest thing he could strive for. Even without wars or conflicts, the production would never stop, and his domain would be secured for many, many years. Methodically, he had set himself a two-year plan throughout which he would simultaneously entice the ledgers of the Alliance and wrest away the grip on diamondsteel production that had been shared, at the time, by three separate corporations…but again and again, his plan hit a snag upon realizing just how unimpressionable and untouchable the CEOs of said companies were (at least those of two of them; the third, Bax Huaxuan of _Huaxuan & Co._ had seemed like an easy beetle to turn over, at the time) - though his might was still gathering, LeFay wasn't a foolish crime lord, and realized that it was not in his power to attempt anything rash against his speculative competition…at least not yet.

He had been musing over ways to knock off Myko Samus of _Kutvl Industries_ and Mange Vandar of _UlverSteel_ one day, when something had caught his gaze from out of the corner of his eye, and he had ordered his chauffer to stop his cruiser. LeFay had just come off of an appointment, and had been driving down a shopping street when his attention was snagged: a commotion was building on the corner, and by the time that he had ordered his chauffer to stop, he realized that he might have just found the answer to his problems.  
A scuffle had broken out in front of one of the shops, and was quickly turning into an all-out fight, involving at least four towering Erephans and…something very small and red. LeFay had stepped out of the cruiser to watch; he was not the only one in the crowd, but he stood on the frame of the cruiser's door for the best view, and what he saw might have been something seen in a movie: afront a morsh shop, three massive, towering employees were exerting themselves to their fullest physical prowess to subdue a creature that, despite being hardly a tenth of his antagonists' size, was fending them off with the greatest assault that the Perentil had ever seen.

"Thief! Get him!", somebody roared.

The Erephans, though unable to keep the creature pinned down, were barely adept enough to keep him within their circle, just outside of which lay a fan of presumably stolen credits.  
A loud _clang_ing noise and a yelp of pain came from the circle, and one of the Erephans fell back, clutching his bloodied face. The creature had gotten hold of a length of piping, and was wielding it as perilously as any swordsmaster might. Through the gap momentarily created by the fallen shophand, LeFay caught clear sight of the creature – he was about a meter tall, and dressed in the scruffiest of rags, through the many holes and tears of which shone blood-red fur. His ears, though curved in aggression, towered high, and were apparently covered in scabs. The hand that gripped the pipe was clawed. Above a grimacing mouth of sharp, yellow teeth, eyes of the most liquid black that LeFay had ever seen were uneased in tension.

* * *

Now he was inside of their ship. LeFay and his guards had entered, leaving the pilot behind with the ship. His guards had their weapons drawn – palm-sized cannons which were accurate at twenty yards. It didn't make the Perentil feel any better, though.  
He had never been on one of their ships, and hoped dearly that he would never have to set foot on one of them ever again. His usually-silent step _clang_ed softly against the grillwork that served as the walkway, as his troop marched apprehensively down the dank and dark corridor, their steps echoing down the lengthy, ill-lit entrapment. What few lights there were glowed sinisterly from bulbs on the walls, giving the impression that this was a mine of sorts. A mine that smelled of staleness and stagnancy, petrification…and, somehow, humidity. LeFay was sweating, but his forearms and chest were freezing, as though he had a fever. Though his breathing was fairly silent, his companions rasped on either side of him, barely able to tolerate the low level of oxygen in the ship.  
Even the physical contradictions that seemed commonplace in as demonic a place as this couldn't deter LeFay's mind from dreading what was at the end of this corridor - anybody who would set up this sort of reception had to be someone to be wary of, after all. But it wasn't just the reception – LeFay had met those who inhabited these ships only once before, and it had been his only prayer since then to never have to confront them again. An unanswered prayer – he figured it oddly poetic before going back to dreading his destination, the walkway to which seemed eerily to be growing narrower and narrower.  
Then came the stench.  
It caught them all off-guard, and one of his guards' immediate retching echoed down the tunnel; the guards had stopped, drawing their hands over their elongated muzzles, but LeFay strode on, his eyes watering slightly. Even he didn't know what exactly this smell was, but it was all which he could do in the face of these entities – he would not cower, even if his knees turned to water. Each step was now a trek in its own: an arduous, continental stride, followed by an oceanous, rippling _clang_ of the grillwork – step, _clang_, step, _clang_…

And then he saw them: faint silhouettes at some distant point down the walkway, but they _were_ there – figures of shadow that sucked in the tiny bit of light around them.  
LeFay's guards had caught up with him again; they were now gripping their firearms tightly, and releasing the safety-lock with a twitch of their fingers. Both of them swallowed – possibly vomit – but LeFay's mouth was far too dry to attempt swallowing. Even his eyes were dry now from not blinking. If he didn't feel dry all over, he figured he might've wet his pants. It was getting difficult to breathe – his throat seemed to be swelling up.

"_It can't last, it can't last, oh Milayu it can't last_…"

The trio of Perentils now stood in front of a black wall. The wall stood approximately seven feet tall, towering over all of them. The wall breathed softly from multiple mouths – each a jagged, undefined hole that seemed to have been lazily sculpted from dark, grimy clay. The wall didn't move, but remained stoic and threatening as it eyed its audience through eight eyes – some of which were artificial, and the crimson, electronic glow of which was as piercing and cold as one could dream of. Whatever reeked of death was hidden by the wall.  
LeFay forced himself to look up into the faces of the wall, and when he did, his head moved up like that of a wooden puppet, whose head was connected to its neck by gummy coils.

"…Yes?", was all he could muster, addressing the silent wall.

From the center of the dark, synonymous scape emerged an individual – it stood approximately two meters at its shoulders, off of which rolled a sleek, black cloak that was neither leather nor woven material, underneath which its body was undefined. The face beneath the shadowy cowl crawled slowly into the dim light, and LeFay shuddered: this was one of the few creatures who appeared to still have both of its eyes, but from the creature's bony cleft to its temple, there was no skin nor scales – just a grimy, metallic implant that reflected just enough light to be noticed against the giant's untempered skin, which was a sickly yellowish-green, and gave the impression of being stretched very tightly over its crab-like skull. The creature's mandible stuck out from its upper jaw, both of which were lined with a row of chipped and tortured-looking teeth. It wheezed affront a flat pair of nostrils, and looked down at the Perentil without hardly bowing its high-fored head.

"A fault in the circle", replied the Praetorian, in a hoarse, cavernous voice.

The words alone meant nothing to LeFay: "a fault", "the circle" – things he realized he wasn't meant to understand but vaguely…yet, the fact that he had been called on account of a fault of any kind didn't ease his mind at all.

"…Oh?", he managed to mutter.

For a moment, the mobhead was terrified that the creature was expanding a great set of wings, but felt an ounce of relief when it became clear that the cloaked creature was only raising his arms out of the cape. These arms were thick and sinewy, and looked like the trunks of a very ugly set of trees. Around the creature's forearms were a pair of gauntlets that appeared to be of the same grimy make as the face-plate. Knotty, black-clawed fingers extended from sharp-knuckled hands in a gesture of implication.

"_Yesss_…", hissed the Praetor, its breath whistling softy through its cracked teeth.  
"A fault most bothersome. A fault to disturb the course. A dangerous fault, made perceptible to us by his Greatness of the Crypt. Hail Kaugarnok."

LeFay couldn't make heads or tails of these words, either. He stood watching the crab-faced monster simper the apparent name, and felt a shiver run down his back.  
The creature lowered its arms a bit, and now its head bowed down enough for it to face LeFay directly. Its eyes were black.

"We protectors of the Seal recognize the will of the Crypt. His course. You are of His will, Nova, yet He sees your errors. Corrected, they must be."

LeFay drew slowly back towards his bodyguards; they might have turned to stone under the gaze of the four Predators, but he felt strong enough to rip the firearm from one of their hands if any one of the creatures advanced on him. He tried to say something, but the Praetor interrupted.

"No, LeFay – we know your thoughts. You needn't fear for yourself; you are still in His favor, Hail Kaugarnok. Yet, you stray from the course. Your insignificant pursuits pay no heed to the greatness of the One Ascendancy. Your servants – idle. Your instruments – blunted. We come to redirect you."

"Oh…oh really?", replied LeFay, now between his two guards, his hands free and ready to grip the cannons from their hands; he didn't trust these beings, no matter what they said.  
"…You know, the pair you sent a few years before were a lot clearer about what they wanted. Stop talking in fucking riddles, if you please, and just spit it out."

A shudder ran across the air, and LeFay wished at once that he hadn't been so brash; it had just came out of his mouth. The eyes of the remaining four Praetors glinted – both born-of and mechanical. The foremost of them contorted his face slightly…yet it took LeFay a moment to realize that he was trying to grin.

"_Yesss_…you need to know", it hissed again, hands flexing once before they were lowered back underneath the cloak.  
"You doubt the power. You don't think yourself able to be blinded. Ah, LeFay – master of stain – I believe to see why you were chosen."

"Just say it and let me go!", LeFay now exclaimed – hardly a shout, but an outburst nonetheless. Again, he hadn't been able to help himself – he was too much on-edge.

The Predator shook softly. He was laughing, but one couldn't tell by listening. It didn't last long, however – the creature righted himself, amused enough. Their sense of humor, LeFay figured, was as undeceptable as their entire civilization…if you could call it that.

"Your strong right arm that carries the sword…", continued the monster.  
"He is the key. A part of it. His existence soforth has made him all that he must be for him to serve in the Ascendancy. There is but one more hardship to bear, and you must bestow it. So demands the Crypt. Hail."

Somehow, LeFay knew that they were referring to Gomora. After all, who else to identify with a sword? – he had, after all, bought him that damn sword.

"What do you want me to do?", asked LeFay, after a moment of hesitation.

"Destroy him", came the immediate reply.

LeFay's eyebrow twitched. The creature showed another hint of a smile.

"You will not succeed. That is not the purpose", added the giant, as though perceiving the Perentil's reservations.

Of course he had reservations about any such talk regarding his greatest employee. Had anybody back on the planet suggested anything of the like, LeFay would've shot 'em himself. But this promise of not succeeding intrigued him, as well as worried him. He tensed slightly, daring himself to speak again. He did, after all, have a reputation at stake, which he had managed to maintain during the first visit of Predators.

"…What is 'the purpose', if I may ask?"

A chittering ran through the wall. Telling LeFay of "the purpose" was apparently not on the itinerary at all, but a collective, alien debate seemed to going through the collection of creatures anyway. After a moment, the Predator standing afront LeFay raised his prickly chin, gave an off sort of gurgle from deep within his throat, and the wall behind him began motioning: their faces turned, and now apparently faced the stench-emitting whatever that was behind them. Some rustlings of cloaks, but nothing else was heard; it was almost as though the group was attempting to distance themselves from what their representative was about to say…or do.

"The purpose, underlord, is consolidation", he stated, his voice falling ominously low.  
"In its current state, the sword is listless: redundant to its purpose. Only through cataclysmic upheaval can the blade be ground into necessary form – that is, to be the second part of the key. The key that will unlock the catacombs afront All waits. The time is near, underlord – you haven't tempered the sword as instructed, for your love of its handling, and now you are approaching the deadline. Soon, the _othyung_ will be here. Thus, we must supply the grinding stone, and you must knob it swiftly, as promised years ago Only then will you receive. Only then will All see."

LeFay took all of this in, without understanding a word of it - something, he figured, about preparing Gomora to be a part of "key" by means of blasting apart his world (how he was supposed to do this, he didn't know, and he didn't suppose the Predators cared about what happened to him; all they cared about Gomora somehow helping them realize a moldy prophecy of theirs), and Something about a crypt. Praetors were morbid like that – their entire goddamn race.  
He didn't want or need to hear anymore. These last three minutes had been more than enough. His previous meeting with them hadn't lasted any longer, anyway. He just wanted to get out of there – away from them, the gloom, and that repulsive stench. Let them keep whatever they had brought with them behind the wall.

"Okay…will do", he promised, and began slowly backing away, touching the hems of his guards' shirts to snap them out of their dull-eyed trance.  
"I'll just…go now."

_Whoosh!  
_All faces turned back on the trio. Their robes swished as the wall wheeled back around, unblinking crimson eyes boring into him, and LeFay knew at once that he had either said something wrong, or they weren't done with him to begin with. Both of his guards gasped and fumbled with their cannons. The representative Praetor narrowed his sunken eyes.

"No, LeFay Nova. You will not. Not yet."

He spread his arms wide. His cape lifted, displaying a horrid body that seemed to be composed more of metal than of flesh: huge portions of the creature's powerful pectorals were either covered or replaced by hunks of the same grimy, fetid metal, beneath which a canvas of scars defined the monster's rock-hard belly. He wore no pants – only a metallic loin-cover, above bulging thighs which turned artificial below the knees. He wore no shoes or boots of any kind – just one bare, clawed foot, and another prosthetic: toeless and putrid.  
This action alone caused his bodyguards to raise their cannons. They fired twice, with cries of dismay as their shells seemingly had no impact on the revealed Predator. These cries were stifled as two thuds sounded, and LeFay's guards were knocked backwards onto the grillwork with respective _clang_s – two members of the wall had shot out like bullets, and had struck each in the forehead with a vicious, martial art-esque palm maneuver, leaving LeFay surrounded.  
He gripped for a small semiautomatic that he kept in his belt, but the attempt was pitiful, and he too found himself on the grilled floor, eyes widening as one of the creatures' sopping, calloused hands closed around his throat.  
The headmost Predator was advancing. For once, his eyes were wide, and full of a gleeful malice. His clawed hands were clenching and expanding, as though squeezing the air itself. He stepped forward, so LeFay could see him out of the brim of his eye.

"Don't fear for your life, worm", he grunted.  
"You are essential, still."

He turned his head back towards the remaining two Predators, and barked an order in their native language ("_If you can call it that_", LeFay thought between rushes of panic) – it sounded like "_Rokneh_", but he had no idea what it could mean…until, of course, he heard the dull, clunking crawling. Between his spread legs, he witnessed the two remaining Praetors part, and a moment later, became aware of what they had been hiding behind them – and obviously were planning on utilizing all along.  
It was a sixth Predator, yet hardly comparable to the others. Crawling on all fours and emaciated to the bone, the creature's mouth was torn open in a ceaseless, silent groan. Its few teeth and chalked lips shone dully with dried saliva. Though nude (and completely hairless), this creature appeared to have no implants of any kind – sans a thick, oppressive strip of metal that completely covered its eyes. The skin around this binding looked ulcered and infected. And the thing smelled like a thousand tombs opened at once – an odor so unbearable made even more dastardly as they led _it_ towards him.  
Desperately, LeFay kicked and thrashed violently, but he was no match to the bulging arm's strength that clamped down hard on his throat. He made a choked cry – a pitiful plea – and the Predators roared with laughter.

"You won't comply – not properly, at least. Persuasion is needed", the head Pred was chuckling darkly.  
"Our persuader here will move you adequately to our needs."

It came closer, rattling the air with its dry wheezing. LeFay kicked and tore against the hand around his throat like a snared animal, but still to no avail. The stink had built to such a vomitous degree that he felt sure he would've thrown up if his esophagus were open. His eyes were watering painfully - it seemed impossible for any creature, alive or dead, to be as repulsive as this thing that crawled towards him now, its arm reaching up, its hand groping about in a wretched fashion that confirmed that beast's sightlessness. It gripped LeFay's ankle, and felt its way gropingly up his leg, his side…

"…._PLEEEAAASE-!_", howled LeFay as it came up his chest, straddling his hips grotesquely, and he tried to look away.  
"_NOT….THIS!_"

The Predators gave no reply to him – rather, they began chanting, seemingly to the blind monster whose hands were now reaching out for LeFay's face, its own head turn up at the dark corridor ceiling. With a startling grip, the thing took the Perentil's long face between its encrusted hands, placing its thumbs forcefully over the screaming underlord's eyes. He wanted to die, LeFay was sure – anything other than these hands, which felt like a pair of huge spiders hugging his burning face. Much worse was the milky whiteness that was now spreading throughout his mind, as though the bastard creature were injecting him with some noxious chemical that blocked out all of his own thoughts and filled him with a terrifying, numb-inducing blankness that just spread, spread, spread, and started to become brighter and brighter as he screamed louder and louder, and a buzzing filled his ears which overrode both his own screaming and the chanting and the rasping of the dirty fucker's putrid breath, and suddenly LeFay the Perentil was drowning in milky soup, which was disgustingly warm and smelled like bodily fluid despite its dilutedness, and he heard and saw nothing other than what they wanted him to see, and he saw, saw, saw, saw, saw, saw, saw, "_Or we'll saw your head off_." Off, off, off, "_Just turn it off, off, off_"…and then, finally, thankfully, all was off.  
No hands. No Predators. Nobody else. Just him, and he was turned off.

* * *

The police had been called, and they arrived in screaming, blinking cars in front of the shop, scattering onlookers. The crimson creature had gone into overdrive once it had noticed the approach, but more Erephans had joined the circle, and even though he managed to fell a couple more of them, they held him in place until the officers pushed their way through the ring, stun guns at the ready. He avoided the first, and knocked away the bolts of the next three, but the fifth shot caught him right in the shoulder, and he was sent to the sidewalk – growling, snarling, and shouting an obscenity, but otherwise paralyzed.  
The police moved in quickly, avoiding his gnashing teeth as they snapped a pair of cuffs on his hands and ankles, and were quick to load him into one of their cruisers. About three or four officers stayed behind to question what exactly had gone on, but the obvious cause of the scene was off to the station.

LeFay had intercepted them a couple of streets down by flagging them with two more of his own ships. The police had been alarmed at first, but eased down just a bit when they caught sight of LeFay – after all, if LeFay was involved and they hadn't done anything against him or his party, the mob leader obviously wanted something better asked for alive. He had wanted the arrestee, and the exchange wasn't too dramatic – one bound and snarling red creature of unknown species for a stack of credits. It went very smoothly.  
As the police cruisers pulled away, LeFay had the crimson stranger hauled into the backseat of his limousine. He didn't know why, he pondered as three of his hired hands shoved the little monster – still bound – through the door, but something about the potential of this situation and this interesting, vicious character seemed too great to resist. No other species that he knew of, after all, could take on an entire group of Erephans and remain standing for more than a second…yet something as small as this thing had kept them off of himself for the longest period of time. It didn't really mean anything to his cause (after all, he needed assassins and not brawlers), but still…he wanted to try.  
He climbed in after the trio of Perentils and the still-struggling creature. One of his Perentils yelped as he was viciously bitten, and fell away, cradling his bleeding palm.

"Lift him up", LeFay ordered.

The remaining two did, and LeFay reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a syringe. It was a hard-needled shot, and contained a dose of relaxium – the drug that LeFay had occasionally given himself during the building of his empire. It was a euphoric drug, but euphoria was not what he was after.  
As the crimson, ragged creature snapped at one of his captors, LeFay reached forward and forcefully gripped its wide jaw, forcing its face around. Without a moment's hesitation, LeFay hilted the needle into the creature's sweaty, red-furred forehead, and it gave a scream as loud and horrible as could be expected when being spined in the brain with a two-inch needle. The yelling ceased as LeFay began to inject: the creature's expression fell, contorted, and eventually went as numb as a rubber mask while the Perentil emptied the entire dosage of the happy-maker into the creature's cortex. He pulled the needle out eventually, with a drop of blood from the puncture, and tossed it out of the car's window. He gripped the creature's jaw again, and thrust his face into his own.

"What's your name?", he demanded.

After a moment of drooling, the creature told him.

"Where do you come from?"

The creature told him.

"Who do you work for?"

"…Nobody", the creature replied.

LeFay smirked deviously, as though he had just picked the prized athlete for a sport's team.

"When this drug wears off – in about five hours – you are going to be ready to give your life for me, you understand?"

"…Yes", answered the creature.

"You will do whatever I ask of you, without question and without concern for your own safety, got it?"

"…Yes", answered the creature.

"You will kill for me, and you will never be seen unless I allow it, understand?"

"…Yes", answered the creature, his eyes rolling in his head.

"What's your name?", LeFay asked again.

The creature told him again.

"From now on, your name's 'Gomora' – like the band."

"…Yes."

LeFay's hand turned soft, and he gently patted the little creature's cheek, allowing him out of the grip of his cards to slump over onto the seat next to him, his face against the cushions. He had heard about the drug's supposed abilities when administered correctly, but had never really tried it out. The experiment had paid off.

"Good boy…Gomora", he said softly to his new underling, and petted the back of his moist neck softly.

He turned back to his panting guards and ordered them back up front. A few seconds later, with everybody except the crimson thing seat properly, the cruisers pulled away, in destination of LeFay's diamondsteel plant.

* * *

(A/N: _dear reader, you have just finished the last chapter of _Elisir _that I plan to write in a long, long time; the story is not over, but it's time for a break. I hope you all have enjoyed it so far, and will check out my profile page for my official adios. Thank you for taking the time to make writing this story worthwhile. Please leave a review_) 


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